The Impatient Inpatient
It was barely mid morning, but the sun was blazing throughout the seaside town. In one small corner a woman with many bags stacked up topped off an orange bike helmet, was sat down a narrow corridor at the local poly clinic. Sighing, watching and tapping her wrist as the nurses ran by. Over worked and under paid they took little notice of the bag lady. The outside heat and the lack of ventilation had made the corridor stuffy. No music played to put people at ease whilst they waited. Just the tapping of shoes on the hard linoleum floor and the occasional sigh from the bag lady. Her hair now had a sign of sweat and grease forming. Her smart blouse and trousers starting to cling to her thin frame.
It was now twenty minutes past her allotted appointment time and still no doctor had appeared. So the sighing grew louder and the tapping became a stomp. Still the nurses didn’t rise to the bait, more concerned with the man who had collapsed in the main waiting room. Suddenly the bag lady jumped as the sound of a door handle echoed down the corridor. Her name was called, by a young doctor. Although professional, she was clearly a junior; no air of seniority about her. She ran in, bags and helmet included, muttering about having things to do. Her protests had all been in vain. She was to remain being an inpatient.
*This was a short assignment for a course, but I am happy with the way that it turned out.*