Waiting Room Humor

Being in the U.S., I find doctor's waiting rooms always more interesting than those I wait in abroad. Why? My fellow patients' conversations and the ability to understand the nuisances of English and American humor.

Two stories from my waiting room time this week.

1. Changes
A man and woman who were in their late 70s entered. While he was checking in for his appointment, the nurse asked him the usual questions, "Has any of your personal information changed since your last visit? Insurance? Addresses?"

"No, I was just here last year," he replied.

"Actually sir, you were last here 6 years ago."

Laughing he responded, "Well, then yeah, a lot has changed."

The gentleman spent a bit of time reviewing his paperwork and then came to sit by his wife who was reading a Woman's Day Magazine.

As he sat down, he said, "So, the last time I was here was 6 years ago."

She nodded.

"And you came with me."

Another nod.

"But then you were listed as my friend."

"Oh," she said with a sly smile.

"So I crossed that out and wrote bossy wife. Figure that way they'll know it's you."

They both chuckled. She shook her head and looked back down to her reading as he kissed her left cheek.

2. Aging
A women, I'm guessing was in her late 50s, went over to the magazine table that all doctors' waiting room offices have. She picked up the magazine on the top of the stack.

She chose People.

"I won't know any of the people in this magazine. Not one. That's how I knew I was getting old, when I didn't recognize anyone," she chuckled.

I smiled at her.

"Every time I read one, I go home and ask my husband if he knows who these celebrities are and he'll answer, 'Who? No idea.' That always makes me feel better to know he's old too."

We laughed.

Waiting rooms always test your patience but this week they also gave me a few laughs.

Home Revised

It seems like there's a trending topic with bloggers I follow lately. The concept of home. I wrote my own version while on my flight home from Mumbai to Chicago a week and a half ago. 

Then I was met at the airport with huge hugs. 

After just a few hours back in the the States, I realized my original "home" post needed a major rewrite.

Until I boarded the plane, I had called Dekalb, Illinois and Mumbai, India home. In DeKalb, home held memories of Christmas Eve traditions including matching jammies. In Mumbai, it facilitated escape from beautiful chaos. Both places created safety, peace and comfort. 

The final few weeks, I felt like I'd lost home. My sense of having a place had evaporated. 

Which is where?

I was in stuck in-between places Trying to accept that I'd spend the summer holding a pin to put onto my map.

But then unexpectedly, I found home. A bedroom in my parents' new house that was decorated less than 24 hours after 2 closings. 

My bedroom for the summer including cute throw pillows

A sister trip to Vancouver with the Goo. Watching soccer out with my parents. Spending a Saturday catching up with dear friends in Chicago. I realized that sometimes home isn't one place. It's not the place your parents lived for 28 years. Not the apartment you painted in vibrant hues in Mumbai. Home is anywhere and everywhere. It's where I make it.

For this summer, not only does Kermit have a home but I have one too. The uncertainty I'd struggled with the final few weeks of the school year in Bombay has been unexpectedly reattached. Stitched back into the place by the people I love. Thank you.