Waiting

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Three

I have been waiting in various waiting areas in the hospital for the last five weeks. Sometime I am waiting to see my mother, to look at her and to find out what condition she is in. At other times, I am lingering around, for a chance to see the doctor or surgeon, to inquire about the situation of my mother’s health, who is under their care. There are times when I am delayed by the nurses, who are attending to my mother, to finish what ever they are doing, so I could get into the room, to meet my mother.

Most of the time, I am just hanging around, in the hospital, hoping to see my mother come round the corner, in her unconsciousness. There are moments that I pause, when she moves just her eye lids, either the left eye or the right, just for a few seconds. Often it is a real pleasure to watch her move her body like a snake gliding over a surface. She would surprise me, occasionally, when she slightly pulls up both her legs or moves her shoulder and arms.

The best thing about all the waiting is when she opens (for a brief moment) both her eyes wide, moves her lips and also moves her head to one side. I would then quickly call her name (a bit louder) and tell her that I am by her side, waiting for her to wake up. Her reply to my calls is always a blank stare and silence. Perhaps I am hoping for a simple answer from her, such as, to tell me that she is well or she is in pain and could I get some help for her pains and discomforts. But her silence may be an indication that her situation is not easy to resolve, medically and emotionally, and that perhaps there are just no remedies or answers.