Essay: The Waiting Room

V.Subramanian shares a thought-provoking piece on the waiting rooms in a hospital and how the perspective towards life changes once one enters them.

The air was thick with tension as I sat in the hospital waiting hall, anxiously glancing at my watch again and again. It had been quite some time since my wife was wheeled into the operation theatre for a surgical procedure. Time seemed to become still at this point. Each second seemed stretched into an endless hour.

The doors of the OT had closed behind my wife with a gentle finality, leaving me outside with only my thoughts and a profound sense of helplessness.

I began pacing up and down the corridor. Occasionally, I stopped near the nurses’ station, hoping for some update, but the staff responded with a rehearsed tone, “We will let you know as soon as we get an update”.

Looking around the waiting room, I realized that every individual present seemed to carry the same overwhelming feeling.

A young man sat hunched forward, his hands clasped tightly, indicating frustration.

A middle-aged woman was staring blankly at the ceiling.

An elderly couple held their hands together and whispered to each other in muffled voices. The emotions were raw and real. Though none of us spoke, we were connected by a shared emotion and angst.

Waiting in a hospital can be an awful experience. It is not just the crawling time that tests your patience, but the unpredictability that accompanies it.

The patient inside the operation theatre lies unconscious, unaware of the storm of emotions outside. The family anxiously waits outside to hear a reassuring sentence from the doctor: “The surgery is successful, and the patient is doing well.” Those simple words can take the heavy weight off your mind.

When the surgery is finally over, the waiting at the ICU begins, where patients are kept under observation.

As the Sun sets and visiting hours end, the night vigil starts. With many relatives returning home by late evening, the night becomes painfully lonely for the relatives who volunteer to stay back.

The night in a hospital waiting hall gives an uncomfortable feeling of isolation.

The once-busy corridors grow quiet, chairs remain empty, and the fluorescent lights cast long shadows on the walls. The place resembles an abandoned building. In that silence, every sound becomes an echo. The soft footsteps of nurses, the occasional rolling of a trolley.

Sometimes, the stillness is shattered by heartbreaking cries. A nurse walks out quietly, calls a name, and informs about the death of a patient. In those moments, unbounded grief erupts spontaneously. The echo of those cries lingers in the hallway long after the family has been led away.

Sitting there, you silently pray to God that the next name called will not be that of your loved one.

Hospitals remind us how much of life is spent waiting. From the nine months that we spend in our mother’s womb to the countless moments we wait for, like opportunities, love, healing, and hope, life unfolds in intervals of separation. And in the end, after one final wait, our last journey begins.

Life itself is nothing but an endless wait, where patience, hope, and faith silently accompany us from beginning to end.

Author’s Bio

V.Subramanian is a professional banker retired as a Deputy General Manager from Syndicate Bank. He writes about different subjects, including philosophical and topical issues. He is a regular contributor to ThePrint under subscriber contribution.

He has also authored and self-published 3 books that are available on Amazon and FLIPKART.

TIME FLIES BUT MEMORIES STAY (A collection of short stories of 40 years of personal experience in Syndicate Bank)
ECHOES OF LIFE (A collection of short stories on the sufferings and the challenges faced by the poor during COVID 19).
10 STEPS TO EFFECTIVE BRANCH MANAGEMENT IN BANKS (A self-help book for serving and aspiring bank managers)