Waiting

They pace, they sit, they smoke, they fall asleep, all waiting.....waiting for news.
They call and call, and leave messages.
They give directions to the hospital.
They stand up when you walk in the room, their faces are hopeful or tear stained.

And I don't have the answers. I rarely do. I wish I did but it's not proper. I must wait myself for the Doctor, the one in charge, the one who has the labwork, the CT results, the diagnosis.
I wait, go back to the patient, go back to the family, walk the well worn path between the trauma rooms and the family rooms.

"They are still with him now." "You can see him soon" "We'll have more information soon."
But I know.
I know that they are already dead.
I know that their injuries will bring death.
I know that their injuries will make them disabled.
Or I know that they are completely fine but the Doctor is tied up and can't see the family yet.
Or they are completely fine and the family won't believe it until they talk to the Doctor. What I have told them isn't good enough. I am just the messenger.

And so I lie. Or tell half truths. Or make something up. Or reminisce with them.
"Tell me about your loved one."

So we wait together.
Or I wait exasperated. "can you please talk to the family?" "please talk to them, they've been waiting for a half an hour." "Can I tell them something until you have a minute?"

And then the Doctors come and they tell and they leave and I am left with the family and the result of the news.
And I wait for the family to absorb the news. To stop sobbing so I can tell them they can see them.

Then they wait with him. Wait for death, wait for life. Waiting.............