There Is No Them & Us

I sat in a pretty bleak waiting room, again, frozen from standing outside waiting for the second bus I needed to get there. I wasn’t allowed to drive as I’d been getting light headed and so my licence had been suspended.

Just weeks ago I was in the building opposite for work. I was lead professional for a young lad, there to chair a meeting with him & his family, his tutor, head teacher, his psychiatrist.

And then, here I was on the other side, and not just of the carpark.

There was a lady who wouldn’t take her coat, or multiple other layers off, despite constantly stating how hot she was. Who kept repeatedly going to the toilet to wash her hands and spoke too loudly to who I assume was her sister.

It seemed the sister couldn’t do right for wrong. No, she didn’t want to take her coat off, it wouldn’t be safe. No she didn’t want to take a seat. No, she didn’t think the wait would be worth it. They don’t know a thing. Nothing ever changes. No, nothing. 

Her sister sighed quietly next to me but said nothing. The combination of the manic blustering being met with silent patience was touching. Through work I’d sat in many a similar waiting room, watching families and loved ones quietly, & not so quietly, be there for each other in whatever way they could. 

It struck me sat there amongst others’ struggles, how quickly my life had spun on its’ axis. There is no ‘them’ & ‘us’. I wasn’t there as a professional observer this time, I wasn’t there to offer anyone anything. I’d flipped with alarming speed from being the one providing care & support to the one receiving professional help. 

It was hard to accept that I was among those needing services, I felt I should have had it more together, been able to sort myself out, I thought I was taking a place that someone else needed more. But then it was kind of humbling to realise that any one of us can be sat in the waiting room – we’re all fallible, we can all struggle, it’s ok to need help. 

That waiting room left an impression on me and I hoped that in time I would come to show myself the sister’s silent patience.