Personal Narrative- Time Spent in Waiting Rooms

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Personal Narrative- Time Spent in Waiting Rooms

As I get older there are a few things I’ve started to notice. One that really stands out is the amount of time I spend in waiting rooms. In my particular situation, I have an 85-year-old father, a wife, a fifteen-year-old son, four house cats, goats, horses, dogs, a few other relatives, and assorted other animals that turn up from time to time.

My father, who has been a widower for several years, has a variety of ailments. Primary among these ailments are boredom and loneliness. When a person gets to his age all he can think about is "what hurts, how bad, if it hurts real bad will I wake up on the right side of the grass, and who will notice if I don’t." With each of these pains he thinks, "maybe I should see the doctor, I know he cares what side of the grass I wake up on, and he will alert my uncaring family to the gravity of the situation." Well, being almost blind he needs a driver. You can guess who that might be; it’s me, his uncaring son. So we go to the doctor, he gets my attention, and the doctors. I get stimulating conversation about hemorrhoids, in the waiting room.

As I mentioned in the beginning, I also have my own oblivious 15-year-old son. Any of you privileged enough to have your own teenager will know that they think they can leap over a reasonably large building, and not get hurt. He’s bullet proof, just ask him. However, the other day Mr. Bulletproof decided to open a package of hot dogs with a foot long butcher knife. "Slice, and heigh-ho, heigh-ho, off to the waiting room we go."

There is also in my life, my wife. Well, as far as that goes, I should leave it there. She just may read this sometime, and in case she is, "you know your never any trouble honey, and I am sure that accident was my fault." In fact, "I’m happy to wait for you in the waiting room."

Then there are the animals. Just the sound of that last sentence, brings certain fears to my mind. An example of why occurred this summer. I was mowing hay, and low and behold what should appear out of the corner of my eye, but the dog. This dog had a mission and it started on the other side of the sickle bar mower.
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