My name is Edward and this is my experience of the doctor’s waiting room. The room where you will die. The hardest part was the sitting, the watching, waiting for that special moment, as if the world is so clearly distinguished. It felt like it was dragging on for days, and the day of judgement had arrived. It was like a jungle in the doctor’s surgery; There were children roaming around uncontrollably like predators, some were screaming, some shouting and others were crying, but their parents had lacked courage to tame the beasts.
Suddenly a man with an amputated arm came rolling in on a wheel chair, and was cursed with so much pain that I almost felt his agony strolling past me, the blood was so bilious that I wanted to pass out. My heart was thumping heavily like a wrecking ball was smashing against my chest again and again tearing me bit by bit. After all this I am barely able to gulp saliva down my throat as if someone had their enormous hands around it squeezing it. Smart men and women dressed in white occasionally popped their heads out of these massive grey coloured doors.
The loud screeching of the door gave me a sense of frustration that I wanted to rip my ears off. In the right corner of my eye I see a vending machine full of snacks; there were chocolates, biscuits, crisps, sandwiches, such variety I thought to myself, though I never had enough money. I could almost taste the food from a mile away. It was calling my name. I was hallucinating, the hunger was taking over me. Suddenly my gut started to rumble, it felt like a lion was roaring inside of me and chewing me up one by one.
Unexpectedly the speaker came on and another person was announced to the doctor’s waiting room. The speaker said, “Please can Emily Burns Report to room 9,I repeat please can Emily Burns report to room 9”. Emily was a young girl, who was slim and slender but that was all I knew about her because she never came out of the doctor’s surgery. I was stuck in a state of inquisitiveness as Emily had not come out of the doctor’s surgery, however I was not worried about Emily, I was more concerned about myself, As my Dad use to say “every man for himself” and that was exactly what I kept in mind.
All of a sudden the microphone went off and it echoed my name in a low tone, I was sentenced to room 9, the room which Emily went to. I was scared, no, trembling and my head was spinning but I crossed my fingers, raised my shoulder and repeatedly thought to myself “I can do this”. As I pushed open the door, there was this pungent scent that filled my nostrils. It smelt as if someone had let a stink bomb off, but that was the last thing on my mind.
Although the smell was repulsive I got this warm sensation, I felt relaxed and soothed, the burden of the thought of having an injection was surprisingly not bothering me as much any more. I looked around the waiting room and I was quite surprised to see that it was pleasantly decorated. On my left there was a large poster illustrating the digestive system, well on my right there was an enormous red box filled with infantile toys. I bent over and I glanced at the toys, I saw toy-cars, dolls, books, magazines and much much more and at that moment I realised I was being childish and that there was nothing to be afraid about.