Trauma Alert

Sitting in the waiting room is nerve racking. Every time the elevator opens, I check to see if Dad is emerging with his new heart... or maybe the doctor with some news. I'd swear that many of the patients are actually my Dad (after all, they share the same shade of white hair).

Promised that we'd have periodic updates, Mom and I sit wondering why we haven't heard anything yet. Is no news good news? Or are the surgeons too preoccupied with the catastrophes at the operating table? We can only imagine.

My Mom finally got up and asked a receptionist if we'd be getting an update. She punched a few buttons to dial into the operating room and reported back, "everything's fine; the doctor is still working."

Phew.

Minutes later, we hear over the loudspeaker: "TRAUMA ALERT! Emergency personnel to the helipad."

Is that Dad? Are they rushing him off to Penn after realizing that Dr. Rosenbloom can't handle this and Dr. Baveria is indeed the best surgeon?

As I'm writing this post, my phone rings. It's some unknown number. Perhaps Mom's friend, Beth? Perhaps the receptionist is trying to reach me? An automatic voice message answers: "This is a very important message regarding..." (::gasp::) "...your Best Buy reward points."

As beepers go off signaling news about some surgery, phones ring all around the waiting room, and elevators constantly ding because someone has arrived at our floor, I can't help but wonder, "why the hell does nobody else seem to be as freaked out as Mom and I feel?"

Maybe they're just hiding it better...