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LuAnn
Wants, Needs, or Reality?
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There I sat, held captive by my injured knee and the pain that brought me there. I knew I was in for the long haul, possibly four hours before I could leave. I was hoping that I would be able to see my own doctor. The clinic is always frightfully busy and walk-ins rarely stand much of a chance of seeing the doctor of their choice, much less getting in without a long wait. I was a walk-in.
Rather than sit there and concentrate on my knee, I spent the time watching the other captives. Since the clinic is near the migrant camps, the majority of the chairs were filled with the workers and their families. I am amazed at the sheer number of young mothers, some not much more than children themselves. I find myself thinking of what I was interested in at their age; I don’t remember it being diapers and crying babies.
I was drawn to one young woman and her little girl. She is probably in her late twenties and her daughter about seven or eight. She is talking to her daughter, demonstrating how to do something by making drawing motions on the palm of her hand. She is very close, speaking very quietly, and obviously enjoying this time with her. The little girl is watching her mother intently; her big brown eyes never leaving her mother’s. She, too, is smiling. You can almost feel the loving relationship the two of them have.
The two of them talked, heads together, for a long time. I kept trying not to stare but it is so rare to see this in a waiting room today. Indeed, the two of them were oblivious to the pack of squealing kids who ran around the room unsupervised, pulling loose chairs out behind them to slow down their pursuers. A part of me wished that I had the nerve to write a quick little note to her, telling her how beautiful I thought the two of them looked together, and that I hoped it would continue to be so. Unfortunately, it was so noisy there that I couldn’t even tell if they spoke English or Spanish.
Another couple that caught my attention was an elderly man and his wife. I first thought he was there helping his frail wife as he was quite attentive to her every need. They held hands and spent most of the time smiling into each other’s eyes and laughing together. He made sure she was warm enough under the onslaught of the air conditioners and fans keeping the room cool. She made all the appropriate motions of being just fine and stop fussing. They smiled as each little toddler wobbled up and tried to share cookies, bottles, and toys with them. He played peek-a-boo with one little guy and she shared a secret remedy for teething with his mother.
All too soon they had to disconnect themselves from the wee ones and head back to the treatment rooms. As he helped her with her things, you could see the roles changing. While he took her arm as if in support, you could see the subtle guiding motion she took by placing her hand on his and gently steering him to follow her. To most of the people in the room he was tenderly assisting his wife; to those of us watching it was the little shadow beside him that was really running the show. Most obvious of all was the love and respect they showed each other, one deferring to the other’s strengths and the other respecting frailties.
While there were numerous cases of rampant wild-child behavior, the thing that struck me most was the cases of family love that I saw. Maybe I needed to see that since I was there hurting and alone. Maybe I just wanted to see it. I believe it was there.
© 2001 LuAnn Gould
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