I’m sitting in a tiny waiting room, with gray walls, and uncomfortable chairs. There’s a coffee machine that dispenses what can barely be called the drink it supposedly supplies, and there’s a television permanently set on the Fox News Channel. That’s not unusual; this is Texas, after all. There is also a single, black landline phone sitting on a rickety end table.
What waiting room am I in? Is it the DMV? Am I renewing my license? Did I lose my social security card?
No. It’s the cardiovascular surgery waiting room at a children’s hospital. That black phone will ring every 30 minutes, and a nurse will give me an update on my 3-month-old son, who is lying on an operating table with his chest open, his heart completely exposed, waiting for what I can only hope is an extension of some deity to fix the holes that have compromised his quality of life from day one.
… Continue Reading