the damn salon

… in the emergency room

In Uncategorized on October 24, 2012 at 11:34 pm

I’m sitting here in the waiting area of the emergency room with a lump in my throat. It is October 24, 2012. 8:52 pm. I am here to accompany someone I love who is sick. So many thoughts are running through my head. To my right is an old woman, maybe 96, maybe 82. I don’t know. But she is old and small and she is frail and in pain. She sits in her wheelchair while her granddaughter who looks to be in her late 30’s or early 40’s just keeps reassuring here everything is going to be okay. I can tell the old woman is complaining and begging for her granddaughter to get her a bed. The granddaughter is massaging the old womans leg and caressing her hair. She keeps telling her “I know. I know you’re hurting. I know. You are gonna be okay.” Now she is wiping a tear from her own face. She knows her grandmother probably won’t be okay. To her left is who seems to be her husband. He is just there to support his wife because he hasn’t said a word nor even looked at the grandmother.

To my left is a middle age women. I think thats a boyfriend beside her. He is just talking entirely too much to be her husband. Its a disconnected chat. Husbands and wives find a certain connection in silence. It’s got to be a new relationship. And he is wearing cowboy boots. I am not sure which one of them are sick.

To my far left is a women. She is a little chunky. She is all by herself. Where is her family? Her daughter? Her sister? Her friend? Anybody? She looks like she is in pain. But she has no one to care. I saw a pregnant lady walk in. She too was by herself. I don’t know where she went. In the middle is a woman coughing and coughing. She just keeps coughing. To the far right are a bunch of kids laughing and playing. They are oblivious to the reality of what is going on. A nurse just called this big gangster looking young boy to a room. Even gangsters get sick. I overheard another woman tell the nurse she thinks she is having a miscarriage, that she is bleeding excessively. The nurse told her to fill out a form. Then she told her to sit and wait. She is still bleeding.

Most people in here look distressed, like the burden of the world is on their shoulder. Some just look lonely. I hear the laughter of a receptionist. She is on a personal call. She sees this everyday. Maybe she just doesn’t care. Or maybe she does. They’re finally taking the old women to the back. The nurse is so calm. I don’t know the old women, but my heart hurts for her. I want to go sit beside her and tell her its okay. But people would call that strange. A white girl just got up and yelled to her black boyfriend. “F&^k you. Fine. You can just go home and F&8k yourself.” Everyone stopped and looked. He didn’t say anything. He just dragged his feet and left through the double doors. I didn’t have to point out that he was black and she was white but I live in this world.

Yesterday I learned the details of the passing of Dawnyele. A young woman whose heart burst minutes after the delivery of her baby. The day before she was perfectly healthy. The baby took her first breath. She took her last.

I have a lump in my throat because earlier today I felt the pressures of not just my own problems but mostly the people I love’s problems. These are the problems I usually carry on my shoulder. And I just became tired. Ms Dora Dobbins, an ever so sweet client of mine told me 2 weeks ago in Charlotte: “Mushiya, I think about you very often and I pray for you.” She Said “I pray for you all the time”. My heart cried because I knew these are the selfless prayers that give me my strength. Because just when you don’t think you can carry anything else, I am here at the hospital with a loved one.

The black boyfriend is back. He went to sit beside his girlfriend. It’s almost like twilight zone how everyone around us even the people who we really don’t know live the same lives as us. As me and as you. Thoughts don’t have to be complete sentences. As different as we are, we are all the same. Someone is crying. Someone is praying. Someone is fighting. Someone is hurting. Someone is dying. Someone is birthing. Someone is being born. Someone is ending a life. Someone is ending a life that hasn’t began. Someone is ending their own life before they even get out of the womb. Maybe that someone knows. Maybe the child in the woman’s womb who is miscarrying knows that life is really just a passage. And why go through the drama? Why go through the traumatic danger of being born and then embarking the emotional rollercoaster of loving, hating, loneliness, heartbreak, lying, being lied to, falling, watching a loved one die… and then Dying. Passage. Why not just pass without the age. I just looked at everyone in the room and everyone is lost in their own thoughts. Maybe the same thoughts. I don’t know. There are a lot of things I don’t know about life.

Most things we never even find out. But one thing I do know is that we are here. We are here and we are here for a reason even if its just to give another person their reason. Somehow there is always a purpose. I do not believe in coincidence nor do I believe in good luck or bad luck. God has designed it such that Every THING in our life, every PERSON in our lives, every STOP that we make has a REASON, a MEANING, a LESSON and a PURPOSE. Right now I am in the hospital, not for myself but with someone I love. The reason I am here is because there are far worse situations in life and far harder pains then my own which means that I must stand strong and learn whatever I need to learn from it. And once the lesson is revealed to me, the purpose of these thoughts and this day will eventually shed light to me for the people I love.

For now I will do what feels right. I will stay here. I will love the people that I love harder. I will thank those that are there for me. And I will continue to give to those that need me. I will continue to do what feels good. I will continue to laugh and find joy in this passage as a live to pass only with age.

I am still at the hospital. The lady to the far left is still by herself. There is a new couple sitting where the grandma used to be. They have a sick newborn in their hands. The white girl is laughing with her black boyfriend. I hear that same coughing somewhere. I am still here. But the lump in my throat is gone.

Mushiya

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  1. beautiful. sad maybe but real life. and in this….I find beauty. we Are all the same. I don’t know if I’ll get to meet you or come in for actual services but ….maybe I was supposed to read this blog for this reason alone and get some perspective. lots of love and keep on the doing the dayum (pronounced: day-um *smile*) thang. love your Spirit, also known as the me I see in you, a.jewell

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