Tired

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.

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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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