Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

The Waiting Room

He is tense in every way of the word. His muscles are acing, his veins are popping out of his skin, making dark greenish-blue lines appear all over his face and body. There’s chatter of feet echoing inside the room, which is being made by his pacing. He walks from one side of the room, then to the other, and then to the other. Ruby red is the only color that can be used to describe his face. He is frustrated, irritated, and just plain annoyed.

“Honey, sit down the test results will be out any minute,” says our mother in a caring voice. “Don’t you think I know that? That’s why I’m standing and pacing.” Jr. thinks in this head. How frustrating, how annoying is it to wait for something? Especially something that could change the rest of your life with a single sentence or a single word. That’s the horror of the waiting room, all hospitals have them, that place where there’s a whole bunch of people and they’re all waiting, just waiting for something. That something the nurse or doctor is going to tell them.

He stops for a second, my brother, as he sees the door open. Coming out of it is a young nurse no more then 26 years old. She is a skinny nurse with light brown hair pulled back. She’s holding a clipboard and calls my brother’s name. Jr. rushes to the nurse and with two words it’s all over and he’s safe. “It’s benign.”





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback