Patience

 

I am waiting patiently. The hospital radio plays on in the background (who choses the playlist? 'Wind beneath my wings' and 'You are my one temptation' are to name but a few). The waiting room is slowly filling up, as is my bladder as I sip my prerequisite amount of water and try to ignore the encroaching discomfort. A husband and wife team enter, both clutching their one litre bottles of Highland spring water. I am not sure who is having the scan but they both earnestly sip away. It's sweet. Opposite me is a mother-son duo. The son in his work suit staring straight ahead - preoccupied while his mother mutters away to herself while rummaging through her handbag. Eventually she finds what she is searching for - her mobile phone. She pulls it out in triumph, flips open the cover and then looks at it with a puzzled expression on her face. She takes off her glasses, peers closer at the tiny screen and passes the phone to her son. At that moment he is called by the ultrasongrapher and hastily hands the phone back to his mother. It is then that I ponder on why I assumed it was the mother and not the son who had come for the scan; it is then that I  ponder on what his story might be and while I am pondering my name is called.  It is time.