The weird thing about waiting rooms is the TV. The second hour in the waiting room, I was glued to it. Trying to read the captions to try and figure out what the figures on the screen were saying. To make things even more challenging, the volume was up a little, so I could hear sound. But the sound was out of sync with the text…very confusing. In the end, I didn’t actually understand what was happening, but it was something to stare at. My mind was on someone in the operating room, so I don’t think I could have really been “into” what was going on anyway. My mind was drifting, imagining biking aimlessly through a desolate desert.
As the third hour approached, I started doing calculations. We arrived at 6:30, and it was now 9:30. The first hour, we sat and waited for some IV drugs to take effect. There were some tough moments to handle. There is a risk going into surgery, and we were realizing it as one of us was in a gown and the other sitting to the side. I was the onlooker and felt helpless, and I have to say, I don’t like seeing someone I care about getting hooked up to be “jacked out” of consciousness. I mean, as humans, it’s all we have, right? It’s what makes us alive. My mind was drifting… I needed to focus. I imagined biking aimlessly along in that desert. The damn TV was so easy to look at, but I needed to appear as if I was watching it because I was dreaming of being lost in an ever-ending region of desolation. I looked at the clock – 10:30.
Okay, recalculating. Surgery started at 8…so she had been under for about 2.5 hours. I was worried. All the thoughts of a bad anesthesiologist kept creeping into my head. She is so small…what if? The stress was unbearable, so I stood up and walked over to the window. A long walk, as I imagined getting off my bike now and feeling the hot sand beneath my feet. Walking the bike now to an endless horizon.
In the parking lot, a car stood out. A golden Focus wagon with a Salsa Mukluk on the roof. It looked way out of place, as did the fat tire bike on top. Usually, I would think how cool it looked, followed by a urge to go ride it. But instead, I nervously went back to the couch and started glaring at the TV again. I comfortably slipped back into my dream stare, back on my bike and pushing towards the horizon…somewhere in the middle of nowhere. It was now 11:30 and approaching noon.
A nurse came into view and walked past me. I made eye contact to see if I could garner any information. She walked past me and into the arms of another. This must be her boyfriend. I wished I could hold my girlfriend. I then overheard her mention that one ACL surgery was down and one to go. She sighed, and I tried to soak in all the nuances of her expression to try and figure out what had happened in the operating room. I couldn’t bear it any longer, and full panic started to set in. I slipped back into my stare at the TV and was again transported to my desert…and my bike. My phone rang. It was the surgeon.
“She did very well, and it all went okay. We were able to use a piece of her hamstring successfully. We now just have to wait for her to wake up. I’ll call you tonight.”
“Thanks doctor, thanks for everything.”
Boneshakerbike 
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