Today, I have a therapy session with my therapist. It has been about two months since I have seen him and there is quite a bit to talk about. I know that there will be tears and lots of emotions flowing from me as I fill him in about the past two months. I am guessing that I will have to be back to seeing him weekly and having to take off work to do it. I have to start focusing on healing myself, so I need to get over having to miss work to go to therapy.
I have an hour until my therapy session. My therapy sessions take place at a psychiatry center at a local hospital. So, as I wait, I am typing away on my computer in a waiting room at the hospital. I would rather sit here and watch the business of the hospital than in the psychiatry center and watch the sadness in people’s eyes. I only sit there for as little as I have to.
Anyways, as I am sitting here on my computer, I am watching people go about their business. I haven’t really been in this hospital since my father had a heart attack in May, 2014. I remember that day like nothing, so a little PTSD is residing over me. I remember being up on fifth floor and watching over his flushed white face as the doctor explained to us that his pacemaker was working just fine and that this was just a little scare. Well….little did I know that less than a year later, he would pass away.
As I sit in this waiting room, I see a mother holding her sleeping almost new born baby. She is the cutest little thing and it makes me long for one of my own. I see elderly people walking to and fro. I see single people sitting on computers and wonder what their story is. I see doctors dressed up in their finest work clothes with white lab coats. I watch as they rush by wondering how they can do their job. How they can have the courage to diagnosis diseases, save lives, and tell someone they have lost their loved one. Many prayers sent out to all medical doctors out there as you certainly have a tough job and I look up to you for being able to do what you do.
I sit and think about this one single building. This hospital. The stories of joy and sadness it tells. Really….life begins and ends in this very place. Children are born here and people die here. I was born in this very hospital. It is part of my story as it is where I entered the world 26 years ago. It could also be the very place I exit this world. This one building could be the bookends to my very life. The beginning and the end. This one building may be just steel and paint, but the people inside it are the very heart of it. The people inside it are what tell it’s very story.