A hospital is a hospital. Doesn’t matter how much money or effort was spent on building it or trying to make it look more inviting. Mum had a minor day surgery today. I spent half of the day waiting at the hospital. Despite the wide array of cafes and shops, the modern decor and really friendly staff, I still hate it. I hate the feeling waiting alone at the hospital. Even with my book in hand. Even with my cup of coffee. I just can’t shake off the dreaded feeling of being alone in the hospital, waiting.


Mum, on the other hand, was in her elements. She works there. She was happy to meet  friends everywhere, enjoyed being treated like a VIP, while catching up with old friends. Everytime, she ran into someone familiar, she happily proclaimed, “Am here for XXX surgery, been hurting for quite a while.” And right after that she happily announced, “This is my daughter.” She basically basked in the attention while I was more than a little awkward with the attention.


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