ER

I was hurting. I needed help. So I found my way to the hospital emergency room. I approached the desk, and the orderlies were engaged in their own discussion. They told me to take a number and sit down. I looked at my number. 83. I looked at the number being served. 80. I figured I wouldn't have to wait too long. I figured wrong.

There were others in the waiting room. It seemed that for the most part they were waiting, not to see a doctor, but maybe for a friend or family member. They were dressed nicely - immaculately actually. I had come straight from life - I was hurt and I needed help, and I didn't, until now, care how I looked or what brands I was dressed in. Anyway,they all seemed to know each other. They shared stories, laughed, sat next to one another, and each of them to a person ignored me. They seemed to be afraid of me, as if I would infect them. I found a lonely seat in the corner of the meeting room and I sat and waited. And waited. The strangers shared jokes, looked at me, turned back to each other and laughed and I sat alone waiting to see the doctor, feeling not only sick, but also terribly uncomfortable. I saw a stack of literature on the small table next to my seat to I decided to start reading, to hopefully make the time pass by more quickly. But it was indecipherable. It told of the hospital, and highlighted some of it's regular patients. I was surprised to see pictures of those in the waiting room, appearing to be so healthy, listed as regular patients.
But the publication wasn't written for outsiders like me. It was written to give updates for people I didn't know, on projects I had no interest in. It seemed that the literature, much like everything else in the room, was designed to alienate me and to make me feel inferior, as an outsider, to the 'regulars'.

Somebody walked into the waiting room. I don't know if he was a doctor or nurse or orderly or what. He didn't say his name, but I guess it wasn't necessary. All of the 'healthy' regulars knew who he was and he smiled at them and said their names. He all but ignored me, glancing at me a few times as he talked.
He spoke about the miracle of medicine, that it could make sick people well. He spoke of the hospital, which has been helping it's regulars for many years. I wished they would call my number so that I could escape, but those at the counter weren't interested in calling any numbers. The stranger ended his public speech by asking the regular patients to please give money to this hospital so that it can continue helping people in the community. I heard him say 'to keep sick people away from us'. I figured, that's why I felt uncomfortable - these people wanted nothing to do with me, because I was hurting! I wondered why they were there, but I found out soon enough. After the speech one of the 'patients' with me in the waiting room stood up and said that she'll be inviting a few select people to her house for group massage later in the week. Another person stood up and said there's an open invitation to come to his house and explore alternative medicines, talk to Janice if you're interested. I looked around for Janice. Apparently if i had any desire to take this guy up on his open offer, I'd have know know or care who Janice was. After he finished, as if on cue, horribly outdated, painfully amateur music started playing through the waiting room speakers. Loudly. Most of the other patients waiting there closed their eyes as if they were enjoying the sounds, or maybe just trying to escape the noise by wishing them away. I had no such luxury.

I took the opportunity to ask about when I could see the doctor. I approached the reception counter but those seated behind it were busy, much much too busy to talk with me. I asked impatiently, 'Can I see the doctor now?' and was told to sit and wait my turn. Once the doctor got there he would see the regulars first, then me. 'Once he gets here?!' I yelled, 'he's not even HERE??'
'Sshhhhhhhh!' I was scolded. 'We don't know when he'll be coming in. But when he does, after he takes care of us, then he'll take care of you, if it's not too late. But you'll have to sit nicely and behave, and try to get along with the others in the waiting room. Try to be more friendly and approachable, then they might accept you. And maybe tuck in your shirt.'
'So,' I asked, 'I'm waiting for somebody who may or may not be on their way, with people who won't accept me as I am, who make me feel isolated and alone, while listening to horrible music in a terribly uncomfortable environment, so that if and when whoever comes he can deal with those who pretend they're healthy first, before he can see me and help me? Nope, sorry, I gotta do better than that.' and I left that
emergency room, still hurting, still in pain, but not willing to go through the deeper hurt and isolation I had experienced in that waiting room.