I remember the waiting room. I never liked hospitals in the first place, but that was usually because I was the one who was hurt. I hated them even more when it was my mom who was sick, and me who was anxious and waiting in the waiting room. It was torture.
We waited for what seemed like an eternity, thinking of all the worse possible things that could be wrong with her. She had collapsed the day before, and we all thought she was perfectly healthy. There was no history of cancer or heart attacks in the family, no reason for her to be sick when she was young. When the doctor came out, I felt my whole family take in a big breath and hold it. Only to let it all out in a big sigh of relief, to find out that mom's appendix needed to come out. That was all.