THE LONG WAIT
I am eight years old and in the hospital for a tonsillectomy. Knowing that there is something in my throat which is often making me sick and that once removed I will feel better does not lesson my fears. But, I am a brave little girl. Or pretend to be. I'm not sure, but I don't cry or whimper or protest when the nurse leads me away from my mother.
On a rolling bed, I'm wheeled into a too bright room, all white and shiny, with silvery tables and cabinets. Men and women in masks fuss around me talking, talking. I understand nothing except "Breathe into the cup and count backwards from one hundred. "Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven… nine…
The room in which I wake is dimly lighted. The girl in the bed next to me is crying; another child across the aisle in calling, "Mama," just the very word I want to say, but can't. I don't feel better as I was told. My throat hurts. I want the pain to go away. I want to go home. I want…I want…
waiting for mama
in a hospital gown
little girl lost
waiting for mama
the little girl cries
as she wets herself
waiting for mama
the little girl swallows pain
and chocolate ice cream
Frogpond