Sketch Thirteen

The night we came into the hospital, the only couch had no vacancy, and had none for a week. An old lady with short silver and white hair kept a make shift bed upon the couch all day. I thought nothing of it until the waiting area became crowded during the day be visitors up to see loved ones in ICU, many to see loved ones in the restricted area of ICU. A decent relationship started between I and the old lady, but I knew she was a person that must have her own way. I could never look at her, look at her long enough to see what she wore, either in a wheel chair or on the couch, and after a few days of her presence, of her loudness, I spoke to her little, looked her way little. The one part of her I remember clearly is the oxygen tube under her nose. The second part of her I clearly remember is the attitude that she could do as she pleased while others must suffer and be condemned by talking behind the back. I snickered the day I overheard another older lady say, "She said that this one family came in, leaving their children jump on chairs, fun all over, and putting dirty diapers into the trash bins in the waiting area; that the family had the whole room stinking." Funny thing, her grandchildren threw paper airplanes all over the waiting area, and ran around, nearly bumping into people, without her even batting an eye. Funny, she talked about other families as well, but I would pay her no attention. She was definitely a woman who needed to have all eyes upon her: "Not I," said this women when the old lady attempted to interrupt a conversation.