Patient in waiting

• Clara Silvi, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2005

People with magazines, necks stiffening as they read.
It’s boring, it’s silent, there’s nothing to do.
Old men are snoozing, little kids are playing.
As people blow their runny noses, now and then, ever so often a cough, no a bark breaks the silence.
So many people, so little room, very slow doctor, very tired receptionist.
Patients leave, patients come.
Air conditioner circulating the air, the water flask makes funny noises as someone takes a glass.
Waiting. . . . . . waiting. . . . . . waiting. . . . . .
for my turn to come, dreading the moment, knowing it won’t be fun.
Then he comes through the door, in his white coat, wearing his stethoscope,
pronounces my name, gestures for me to follow.
Through the door and into the next room.
First we greet, then he smiles, I lift my sleeve uneasily.
My eyes are closed waiting, then it enters, pokes into my arm,
how painful it is, but the liquid which will help me live is pushed into my blood stream.
The needle is pulled out, I head on home with a bandaid on my arm.