Unwanted Surprises

The whole place is too white. You can’t tell the ceiling from the walls to the floors. It is impossible to think and it is making me sick. The whole place smells too sterile and clean. Apparently they love Clorox, because that’s all that I can smell. I feel like I’m suffocating. It feels like my lungs have shrunk to the size of peas and trying to get air is becoming a challenge. My stomach is getting cramps and I feel like I’m going to vomit. I have never been in this situation before. I don’t even know what happened to him. All I know is that he was coming home from work, and he got into an accident on the way. The doctor’s won’t even tell me anything, or how serious his condition is. All they keep saying is that he will be fine, but you can’t help but think of the worst-case scenario. I can’t think of what else to do but sit in the stiff chairs. I start pacing but that just makes me even sicker. It has been two hours and still no word on him. I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless. I promised him I would always be there for him, and when he needs me the most, I can’t do anything but just sit in the waiting room and wait for the doctors to come out and tell me how he’s doing. I feel like crying, but no tears are coming out. I am now really starting to believe that your tear ducts can run out of tears. I have never cried this much in my life as much as I was crying a while ago.

* * *

We were going out to go celebrate. It was our seventh wedding anniversary today. We were going to dress up really fancy and he was going to bring me a dozen daisies because red roses are so cliché and way overdone. We were going to go out to eat.

Instead of going to an expensive restaurant and ordering way too much food that we would never be able to finish, I’m in the waiting room of the hospital. This is definitely not how we were planning on spending our anniversary together.

* * *

It’s impossible for me to close my eyes anymore. The second I do, I see this horrible visual of him lying on the bed, lifeless. Just the image of him like that makes me want to start crying again. I look around and see the people sitting around me, and it’s making my stomach queasy. There’s a woman in the corner of the room falling to the floor sobbing, and a man is trying to comfort her. It’s making my heart hurt just looking at her. I look to my other side, and there’s a small boy sitting in a lap of whom I’m guessing is the boy’s father. The boy looks so content with his Buzz Lightyear action figure in one hand, and the Woody doll in the other. The man, on the other hand, looks lost. I turn back and look straight in front where a woman with two children has just sat down. One of the children, a girl, is crying in a loud shrill voice, and the other, also a girl, is holding onto the woman’s jacket. I need to get out of here. The people around me are very unsettling. I can’t handle this anymore.

I get up quickly and find my way to the nearest bathroom. It’s surprisingly empty. I walk over to the nearest porcelain sink, and turn on the faucet. I splash some cold water on my face. I flinch as my gaze comes face to face with the mirror. My hair is a mess. I didn’t even have the time to fix myself before coming. I rushed here the minute I got the call.

* * *

The phone in the hallway began to ring right as I finished my eye makeup to match my black silk dress. My hair was still damp from the shower I had just taken. I made my way out of our bedroom to the hallway, and was slightly out of breath when I answered the phone.

         “Hello?” I asked as I looked at my half-done makeup in the hallway mirror.

         “Uh…yes, is this Mrs. Lauren Roberts?” the female voice asked on the other side of the line.

         “Yeah. This is she,” I answered looking away from the mirror, and walking into our bedroom to put on my shoes.

         “My name is Josie Weldon and I’m calling regarding your husband Michael Roberts,” she explained.

         “What can I help you with?” I asked not at all concerned. Business calls were a constant thing in our household.

         “I’m calling from St. Elizabeth’s Hospital. Your husbands been in an accident and you need to come to the hospital immediately.” I froze in the middle of picking out a necklace when I heard the word “hospital.”

         “What?” I managed to choke out.

         “What happened to him? Is he all right?” I asked as I quickly dropped the necklace and held onto the phone for my dear life.

         “I’m sorry Ma’am,” the woman said on the other line. “We’re not allowed to disclose any of that. You need to come down here, and talk to the doctor yourself,” she said regretfully.

         “Where is he?” I asked as I frantically took off my heels, and looked for my more comfortable shoes.

         “St. Elizabeth’s Hospital, Ma’am,” she repeated.
I nodded into the phone, turned it off and threw it on my bed as I rushed to the car.

* * *

My thoughts are interrupted by a young woman, not much older than 20, walking into the bathroom, and giving me a small smile. I return the smile with great difficulty. I grab some paper towels and wipe my face, then leave the bathroom.

By the time I return to the waiting room, it has doubled in people. The woman who was crying hysterically in the corner is no longer there. The boy who was in his fathers lap is now sleeping; his Buzz Lightyear and Woody toys long forgotten on the side table. The other woman, with the two girls, is sitting there, filling out forms, while one of the girl sleeps, and the other, on the verge of falling asleep any minute.

I decide to stand right outside the waiting room door. I glance at the clock, and it’s only been 45 minutes since I last looked at the clock. I feel myself getting anxious again, and decide to walk over to the nurse’s station to see why I haven’t heard anything on him yet.

         “Uh…excuse me,” I say timidly to a nurse filling out paperwork at a desk.
An older woman looks up at me with warm chocolate eyes. “How can I help you dear?” she asks smiling.

         “I was just wondering, I haven’t heard anything on my husband yet, and it’s been almost three hours,” I say, worried.

         “I’ll try to find out what’s wrong. What’s his name dear?” she asks so gently.

         “Michael. Michael Roberts,” I manage to say.

The nurse writes down his name, and looks up at me again. “Go ahead and take a seat honey. I’ll go ahead and find you when I have word on your husband,” she says, smiling warmly.

I nod and head back to the waiting room. Some of the seats are now vacant, and I take the seat closest to the nurse’s station. I watch as the nurse gets up from her seat and makes her way behind double doors.

I sit there, and try to focus on anything but him. It’s too painful, especially since I don’t know what’s going on. I turn in my seat to see a small TV screen in the corner of the room. I try to focus on what the anchorwoman is saying about a new health issue warranted, but my mind isn’t focusing anywhere.

I don’t know how long I’m sitting there, trying to focus before a nurse comes to me, and gently taps me on the shoulder. I turn my head a little too quickly towards her.

         “Mrs. Roberts?” The nurse asks surprised by my sudden reaction.

         “Yes,” I answer rising from my chair. “Do you have word on my husband?” I question trying to control my shaky hands.

         “We do,” the nurse replies.

         “How is he? Is he okay? When can he go home?” I immediately began to ask.

The nurse shakes her head. “Actually, the doctor is right here, and he wants to talk to you,” the nurse answers. “I’ll call him out here for you,” she says as she leaves through the double doors and comes back a couple minutes later with an older man in a white coat.

Just looking at the doctor coming up to makes me feel a whole lot worse. Who knows what kind of news he’s going to bring. I stand up once again, and began to wring my hands, a nervous habit that never seemed to fade with time.

         “Mrs. Roberts,” the doctor says as he comes up to me and shakes my hand.

         “Yes?” I answer as I retreat my hand and go back to wringing them.

         “I’m Dr. London, and I just wanted to apologize for keeping you waiting so long,” he says.

I just nod, not wanting to hear his apologies, but wanting to know how Michael is doing.

         “It’s okay. How’s Michael doing?” I ask tired of not being told anything.

         “Mrs. Roberts, your husband got into a car accident,” Dr. London said removing his glasses and wiping his wrinkled forehead.

         “Oh my God, is he alright? Can I see him?” I ask.

         “He’s most probably still under the affects of anesthesia right now, but he should be awake pretty soon.”

         “What exactly happened to him?” I ask terrified of the answer.

         “Well, he has had some internal bleeding, and he has a broken leg,” he explains calmly. “We operated on him, and thankfully, we managed to stop the internal bleeding.”

         “Oh thank God.” I say sighing as I feel a ton of weight lift off my shoulders.

         “So, is he all right? When can he go home?” I begin asking him questions.

         “He is in stable condition right now, but I definitely want to keep him here for a couple of days and keep an eye on him to make sure he still isn’t bleeding internally.” Dr. London explains as he puts his glasses back on and makes hand gestures.

         “Okay.” I say nodding. “Does this mean that I can see him?” I ask trying to hide the anticipation from my voice.

         “Sure,” he says. “The only thing, like I mentioned before, is that he’s still under the affects of anesthesia, so he’s probably going to be sleeping,” he explains.

         “That’s fine,” I say, a little too quickly.

         “The nurse will show you to his room, and if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my other patients,” he says, apologetically.

         “Thank you for everything.” I say as he shakes my hand once again, and heads back towards the double doors.

I sit back down, and feel so much lighter. I feel as if I can breathe again and it’s so refreshing. A couple of minutes later, the same nurse, who went to get Dr. London, comes up to me again.

         “I can take you to your husbands room now,” she says, and I quickly get up and follow her behind the double doors.

We pass another nurses station right as we enter, and there are rooms on both sides of the walls. You can hear people talking and laughing. I can’t believe this is the same place that people were crying and were anxious, and didn’t know what to expect. The atmosphere here is so much more friendly and lighter.

The nurse abruptly stops in front of a darkened room, and ushers me inside. I enter the room cautiously, and I notice that he’s the only one in the room.

His face has some purple bruises and his left leg is hoisted on a harness and covered in a cast. He has an oxygen tube in his nose, and there’s an IV in his right arm.

The nurse gives me a small smile and walks out of the room, closing the door behind her. I turn to watch her leave, then, take a seat by a chair next to his bed.

I just stare at the cast, and the bruises on his face, and I can’t control myself any longer. I try my best not to make any noise, but refrain from wiping my eyes this time. This time, these are happy tears.

When the day started off, I was expecting myself to be all dressed up and eating dinner at an expensive restaurant. But, right now, as I’m sitting by his bed, I decide that I wouldn’t want to be any place else.