The room used to be full of white hospital beds; now, the beds were replaced by chairs. I thought that it was a good choice on the hospital's part, because beds carried more germs. I had an upset stomach which made me puke, and a bunch of other terribly messy things. The doctor told me to get a medicine injection, three bottles full of liquid solution that needed to be pumped into me. There was no good side, though I imagined that I would be happier if it was during the day time.
One thing you would notice was that like every room, there were lots of people. Regardless of where they placed you, a bunch of other seats had already been filled. One person leaves, another replaces them. That's how life worked in this hospital. The stench of medical stuff was bad, but tolerable, unless you had a sensitive nose. The chairs were all the same, green cushioning, and a bright yellow call button on the bottom. Thank goodness mom was there with me, or else it would had been a chore for me to stretch downward to press the 'call nurse' button.
The worst part wasn't the needle going into your skin, it was the wait for the medicine bottle to go empty, and the inevitable realization that you just got something pumped into your system. I had three bottles, two small green ones, and one bigger one with clear liquid in them. After the nurse pushed the needle in, she would put a translucent bandaid on top, followed by two more pieces of white tape to secure the needle and the injection cord. As I waited, I often took the time to study the people around me. Nowadays, it became hard for kids to catch illnesses that required a visit to the injection room. So, much of the patients were elderlies, and sometimes middle aged people. I thought I was the youngest, and I was pretty correct in my assumption. One time, a few years ago, a lady asked why I was in the injection room. Same thing: a terribly upset stomach.
Most times, you get to see the worst things coming from this injection room. People were arguing with nurses, people were screaming and crying as the needle goes into their flesh. I once saw a woman forcing her husband to go to the toilet right there on the bed; it was a horrible sight. I was glad the woman at least had the decency to use herself as an obstruction. Though, I doubt the people diagonally across would be spared of such a view.
Even still, there were good moments. People were making conversations with absolute strangers; people were laughing with their family. Yesterday, a woman asked a nurse if she was single, because her son was forty five and still not married. The nurse told her that that man was too old for her, she was only twenty-something. Then, the woman said that it's alright, that she could be her adoptive daughter, and she ended her statement with a laugh. Observing people was critical to the killing of time.
