So a few days ago I had to take my brother to the emergency room because he had sharp stomach pains and a small pancake shape poking out of the right side of his abdomen. He was going to drive himself to the ER, but I insisted on taking him for fear that his appendix was going to rupture or an alien was going to explode out of his stomach and start tap dancing across the dashboard of his car.
When we got there, three college girls were sitting in the waiting room. All were wearing sweatpants and flip flops on this particular freezing 30-degree day in February. Their toes were bright red and they were complaining, “It’s really cold in here”. (I don’t know, here’s a crazy idea but maybe put some socks and shoes on???)
Well, it turns out the reason they were hanging out in the waiting room today was because one of the three – the tall one with the enormous Coach bag (and sweatpants and flip flops) – had had a migraine headache for three days and it got so bad that her eye felt like it was popping out of its socket and was completely swollen shut. I felt really bad, this girl looked like she was in a lot of pain – she was even crying silently from time to time, sitting there with an ice pack pressed to her left eye.
Her two friends, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to her suffering. They sat there and chatted away at warp speed about being carried home drunk from the bar, what dress they were going to wear to the semiformal, which girls are bitches, which guys are nice, which guys are mean, and how one of them bought the wrong book for a class and didn’t know what to do since she threw out the receipt.
This verbal diarrhea went on for about an hour. Not once did they acknowledge their friend (well, except when they broke out their cell phones to call their other friends to let them know about the emergency room drama). They didn’t offer her a drink of water, or a new ice pack. They could have at least patted her knee and said “There, there, it will be ok.” Something – anything!
“I hope she’s ok,” said the short blond girl after the tall girl finally got called in to see a doctor.
“Yeah,” said the other.
“I wonder what’s wrong with her. Maybe it’s just….I don’t know what it is.” She said. “Want to go to Subway?”
“Yeah,” said the other.
Then they proceeded to send the poor girl a text message saying that they’d be back in an hour. They got up and walked out the door into the bitter February air (flip, flop, flip, flop).
Oh, and if you were wondering, my brother was fine. It turns out he had a parasite (eew) and all he needed was medication. No operations, no aliens – thank goodness.
