Crying in the Corridors - The Second Draft

It was a Sunday. Hot and sunny. Just a typical Saudi day. Inside, all corridors had that overwhelming scent all hospitals suffer from on that Sunday and every other day. They are filled with people coughing and cursing with all sorts of expressions on their faces. Those children look out of battery. The shoulders and jaws are sinking. That woman is a scanner studying everyone up and down. And there, amongst the crowed I saw him carrying his hopeful outlook and pushing his awfully sick old mother.

''Just take me home, now.'' His mom screamed so deafeningly that you could hear her words echoing all over that endless corridor, and all heads turned toward them in a critical fashion.

I felt sick to my stomach thinking at that man's embarrassment. She was really loud and her voice was really aggravating. She looked so old; every inch of her skin was wrinkled. She had a stroke or something that her face and body were out of shape. Her month was going down in one side but not the other. Her knees were still and leaning toward the right side.

I finally got myself to look at him; to see how he handles this hard situation. I viewed his face. Chain held up high. Eyes staring at the horizon with confidence and ease. He didn't get it. He really isn't noticing those two dozens of goggly judgmental eyes surrounding him.

He lips are starting to move. I am positive he will ask her to be quiet and stop embarrassing him publicly. He better does.

''When we go back home, we will have some Turkish tea and lots of Bounty chocolate. You like it, don't you?''

The man said that remark loud enough for his mother and everyone else to catch.

She smiled teasingly, and her eyes lit up.

The next minute the shouting and the crying were back; louder and more annoying. He didn't react. I kept staring at him to see signs of his vulnerability through those layers of indifference. I needed an excuse to get closer. To carefully examine the steady gesture.

Bingo! There's a tissue underneath his Chair. That's my golden ticket. I flew toward them.

''Excuse me sir.''

''What's it?''

''There's a tissue underneath your chair.''

''What's your name?''

''Salman.''

''My father's name is Salem; Salem is the Arabic version of Salman.''

''I didn't know that sir.''

He bent over and placed the tissue in my hand along with 500 Saudi Riyals.

''No, sir. This is too much.''

''It's from my mom. She will be very upset with you if won't accept it. She loves to clean you know. You are doing a great job here."

I looked again at his mother up close and tried to picture her cleaning. I failed! All I could see was inability and old, really old age.

 I thanked her. She shouted back many remarks afterwards.

''Take me home.''

''I have a disease.''

''I want my daughters.''

The nurse called them and they disappeared into the doctor's room very slowly. The energy immediately changed. All people smiled and adjusted their postures with relief. They stared at each other and all eyes were saying ''Finally!''

***********

''I need Shaikah's file.''

''Sure doctor, anything else boss?'' I replied cheerfully with a wide smile that I forcefully got my face to make.

It was another long and hectic day. All days in hospitals are hectic to be honest. What was I thinking when I sent my resume to a freaking hospital. Have I not considered that I may actually get a job there? The hours keep dragging so slowly. Two hours pass, and I check my clock with joy to find out those were actually just ten bloody minutes. That's killing me. The icing on the cake today is this old fellow and his weepy ancient mother. She is a death project in progress. A very loud one. what on earth does he expect us to offer her? Another lifetime. Guess what babe? Not gonna happen!

                       

''Why the hell would you bring this ancient 200 year old mother to a hospital. There are other cases that actually do have real hope here, you know''

I truly almost said that. It feels so good saying that in my head. I pictured the scene. It has some therapeutic powers. Just awesome. I'm sick of this old man popping in every other day with his half way dead mom. Why does he have to remind me that I ended up working in a sad hospital? He rubs it in my face in purpose; I know he does.

I understand what he's trying to do here. Those who live with ill people for too long become psychos themselves. I know. I'm the expert.

''When we go back home, we will have some Turkish tea and lots of Bounty chocolate. You like it, don't you?''

There he does it again with those stupid statements and out of date baby talk. Oh it's Bounty this time. So hilarious. So loud even for you showman. Yeah! Rub it hard in my face. You're going home. This sick creature is going home to have lots of chocolate. And I get buried alive every single fucking day from 8 to 4.

''How many patients are ahead of us sisters?''

''Quiet a few,'' I said while trying hard to bottle my resentment.

''How many, exactly? my mother can't sit for long. Is there a way for us to see the doctor any sooner? We have an appointment.''

''There are Seven more patients.''

''I see''

''Go back home,'' I thought to my self.

******

''Was everything okey?''

''Everything was smooth and under control.''

''Did she cry?''

''I don't know. A little I guess. No big deal.''

******

It's Sunday. I had to come here fishing rather than wishing for the husband. Scan all clinics. There it is. There are a couple of interesting pieces here. I can work with that. That guy is cute. A bit too obsessed with his phone. I can work on this; he's a baby. No more than 24. No, no, no! He's wearing Toms! Too affordable and ordinary for my liking! The man with the crazy old granny is kinda cute. Mmmmm. 

Nice watch. Check.

Gucci shoes. Double check.

Old but not so very cranky. Pass.

A family man. Check.

Mom's about to die. Perfect.

Looks like we have a catch. When the area gets less crowded, especially when those three children with their runny noses go, I'll make my move.

'When we go back home, we will have some Turkish tea and lots of Bounty chocolate. You like it, don't you?''

Sweet! Our fellow has a warm heart. Oh yeah. I do. I'm going home with you babe. I can do Bounty.

I just hope I don't have to put up with this sick lady! Of course I won't. She is more or less dead!

******

The phone's ringing overshadowed the immeasurable weep.

''Yeah, we're still waiting.''

''Only a little! Nothing too unsettling. People today live in their heads. Do we have any Bounty left by any chance?''