I REMEMBER by Natascha Maciejewski

Waiting

I remember sitting in that room and waiting. The relatives waiting area. Waiting. The word seems so
benign, yet my sense of waiting was cancerous. It was all consuming. Like some vile, evil thing that
very slowly devoured its prey – that was what waiting was like for me. I remember looking at the
clock and it seeming that every minute lasted hours. I was angry at the clock – with time. I wanted
some news; I wanted to know what was going on. I choked on my impatience and took a walk
around the hospital grounds to try to get away from my waiting. Then I remember panicking and
running back to that waiting room, just in case anything happened and they couldn’t find me.

There were other people there, caught up in their own waiting. We were in the same boat, yet none
of us talked to one another. We all sat silent – trapped in our own fear. Alone. I remember a doctor
and nurse came in to talk to one of those waiting. They talked in hushed voices in the corner of the
room. I pretended not to look, not to listen, but I had to look, I had to listen. The woman began to
sob. Her waiting had ended with her terror being realised. Her husband was dead. I remember I
could hardly breathe. I could not think straight. I couldn’t get morbid thoughts out of my mind. Every
horrible possibility raced in front of me and I could not think positively, no matter how hard I tried. I
prayed, even though I wasn't religious. I promised God a multitude of things if only he would bring
her through this alive.