The Waiting Room - Some Thoughts on Cell Phones

The Waiting Room – Some thoughts on cell phones

I sat in the waiting room this afternoon. I switched on my cell phone. I checked my sites and read some CNN. I’m a political junkie.

After being summoned to check-in at the main desk, I was moved to the next waiting room. I looked at my phone.

When I finally looked up, a mom and her son were sitting across from me. I wondered why she was there. She was the youngest person in the large waiting room. Except for her son. Everyone else was very old, like me (maybe even older).

The mom was on her phone. She did what I do on my phone. She swiped and liked and scrolled on down.  

Her son, who looked to be about six-years-old, gently bumped his head against her shoulder. Then he pulled his knit cap over his eyes. Then he sat still. I watched as he held his hands. He was wringing his hands. His slender fingers rolled and coiled around each other. His eyes were covered by his cap as he wrung his hands.

His mother stared at her phone.

I didn’t have a cell phone when I was a young mom. Who knows? Maybe if I would have had one, I would have stared at it in the waiting room, at the grocery store, at the bank, in a restaurant, and anywhere my kids were. Cell phones can be addictive. I love my phone.

These days, moms and dads of little ones live in a wild world. So many distractions. So many friends and strangers to keep up with. Family, work and a smaller and smaller world to manage. I don’t know how they do it. I don’t know if I could be a young mom today.

But back to the waiting room… I looked back down at my phone. Then one of the big doors opened and I heard a woman’s voice, “Daniel?”

The little boy who was holding his own hands, pushed his hat back from his eyes and looked up.

His mom slowly stood and walked him to the voice. The voice talked again, “How are you today, Daniel? My name is Mary and I will be taking your pictures this afternoon.” She was standing at the door of the X-ray wing.

The door closed and Mary, Daniel and Daniel’s mom disappeared.

I thought about cell phones. I thought about how many times a day I bend my neck forward and glue my eyes to anything. Even if it’s the weather channel.

I. Waste. Time.

I turned off my phone.

I bent my neck forward and I prayed.

Here was my prayer:

“I don’t know why Daniel is here, God. You do.

I hope it isn’t serious.

Thank you for Mary’s kind voice.

I hope he isn’t afraid when Mary “takes pictures” with something much bigger than a cell phone.

I hope her machine isn’t looking for something scary.

I hope Mary looks Daniel in the eyes when she explains the procedure.

Be with Daniels’ mom. She must feel scared, too.

I’m sorry for stepping away from life, and for wasting time.

When Daniel and his mom leave, I hope she is holding his hand as they walk out to the parking lot.

I hope she is holding his hand so he doesn’t have to.”