Currently I’m sitting outside the door. I can hear his heart monitor going still. Since I’ve gotten here its beeped a total of 35 times. I don’t know why I’m here, I just finished work. I haven’t eaten since lunch and the Chinese food is still leaving track marks along my stomach. Thinking back on myself I think this was a horrid idea. If I’m being honest I don’t even know the man’s name. Even as I tell you this I have no idea how hes doing or if he wants me here. Still… I sit on hardened hospital chairs, smelling the anxiety of the last people to sit here, and wait. Waiting hasn’t ever been my strong suit. I have patience for things I know the outcome for. This is…My watch reads 7: 34 p.m. and glaring. I have work tomorrow and the hospital is still half an hour from my house.
I’ve been here about 33-32 minutes and not a single thing seems to have changed. At a time like this I’m ashamed of my mind for not remembering how long his surgery was said to take. For not remembering his name.
The Broom closet, room 631b, never closes, seems to always have someone coming in and out. I’m staring at it still. trying to ignore the long beep humming from the room in front of me. I tried to count down. Thirty…..twenty nine…twenty eight…Tweny seven….all the way down to Ten…Nine….Eight
“We’re losing him” a man inside shouts.
Seven.
“Clear”
Six.
“Nothing”
Five.
“Clear”
Four.
“…”
Three.
“Come on”
Two.
The Universe has a funny way of doing things. I opened my phone to turn off an Alarm signalling 8 O’clock, and realized That I got a message last night a few minutes after I got home. It read
“Goodnight Acer. Hope the Chinese doesn’t still bother you in the morning. 🙂 -Steve H.”