Lonliness and the sheer boredom of sitting in the hospital waiting room can put strange thoughts in your head. You can only so much flip into the decade old magazines on the coffee table before committing each and every page to memory. One only need to look out the room to see his or her miserable future walking with bottles of liquids whose names you cannot pronounce, tubes danglining down your bottoms wearing a bio-degradable gown slit from behind. And don't even let me get to the black hairy asses on display for others. There were few white asses too... but that is not what I wanted to write about. At least now.
Such is the human cycle of life that you start with the hospital room (atleast the decent few of us) and you end up in the hospital room. So, I guess the crux of your whole existence is to make the most of it in between hospitals... you either eat, sleep and be merry or you eat, sleep and don't be merry.
Its been over 48 hours now, and still no good news (actually no news at all) about the condition of the old man from the ICU. I was not there when my father passed away, a little regret I've been carrying for a long time now. May be it is because of this that I have been sitting in the waiting room staring at the ceiling straight without food and shower. Actually thinking of food only made me sick, so it was no big deal I guess. And it is actually when you stare at the ceiling for so long, that delusions begin to set in. You drift into the concious sleep of dreams and nightmares. Of hope and fear.
What if there is heaven and hell? Angels and Demons? God? I always believed in God. But then you wonder was it because I was taught to do so or because I really, really, REALLY believed in him. Is all the wars over religion fought because men believed in the Almighty? Is the so called terrorism in the name of religion really for a castle in paradise or for some twisted little political agenda? What do I believe?
Love. Hate. Hope. Happiness. Sad. Jealousy. Fear. Guilt. Remorse. What are these but mere words or feelings that will describe your existence over the few decades. What is the purpose of existence when there is always an end to it? Where is the strength to be immortal coming from? What is the purpose of this existence, if this is what you call it?
Why this, why that... the questions whirls in your mind so fast and confuses you so much that you think, "Am I going mad? Do I need to be in the loony bin?"
Exhausted, mentally and physically from sitting on those back-aching chairs - considering the ordeal one has to go through, NHS should really consider investing in some decent chairs for the waiting families - I am sipping my first sip of machine coffee in 2 days...
So till the old man recovers from his strain... its back to those magazines and my thoughts...
Such is the human cycle of life that you start with the hospital room (atleast the decent few of us) and you end up in the hospital room. So, I guess the crux of your whole existence is to make the most of it in between hospitals... you either eat, sleep and be merry or you eat, sleep and don't be merry.
Its been over 48 hours now, and still no good news (actually no news at all) about the condition of the old man from the ICU. I was not there when my father passed away, a little regret I've been carrying for a long time now. May be it is because of this that I have been sitting in the waiting room staring at the ceiling straight without food and shower. Actually thinking of food only made me sick, so it was no big deal I guess. And it is actually when you stare at the ceiling for so long, that delusions begin to set in. You drift into the concious sleep of dreams and nightmares. Of hope and fear.
What if there is heaven and hell? Angels and Demons? God? I always believed in God. But then you wonder was it because I was taught to do so or because I really, really, REALLY believed in him. Is all the wars over religion fought because men believed in the Almighty? Is the so called terrorism in the name of religion really for a castle in paradise or for some twisted little political agenda? What do I believe?
Love. Hate. Hope. Happiness. Sad. Jealousy. Fear. Guilt. Remorse. What are these but mere words or feelings that will describe your existence over the few decades. What is the purpose of existence when there is always an end to it? Where is the strength to be immortal coming from? What is the purpose of this existence, if this is what you call it?
Why this, why that... the questions whirls in your mind so fast and confuses you so much that you think, "Am I going mad? Do I need to be in the loony bin?"
Exhausted, mentally and physically from sitting on those back-aching chairs - considering the ordeal one has to go through, NHS should really consider investing in some decent chairs for the waiting families - I am sipping my first sip of machine coffee in 2 days...
So till the old man recovers from his strain... its back to those magazines and my thoughts...
