The Silent Sound of the Waiting Room

The sound of the clock ticking, indicating the time spend in this room. The white noise from the fan, cooling the area around it. The distant ringing from the secretary’s office every time someone calls in, to schedule an appointment. At some point, I was the cause of that sound. It all seems so loud in the otherwise silent waiting room. No one is talking and everyone is here for a reason. Are they sick or are they just here as a relative? The door opens from time to time, hinges silently screeching every time. At first, it is someone asked to wait, just like the rest of us. Then it is the secretary calling the next name “Mary Joe Anderson, the doctor is ready for you”. A woman reacts and stands up, taking her bag and jacket with her, leaving an empty seat for the next to enter. Her hair is tangled, and she is pale as snow. She leaves the room and takes with her, the sound of heavy breathing, that felt the room before. The ticking clock and the blowing fan seems louder than ever. I do not even remember hearing the radio before now. It is as if it is only turned on to remove the painful silence, and not for us to actually hear. The door opens again, an older gentleman with a cane, followed by a younger woman. His daughter possibly. There is a squealing sound coming from his joints, or is it the cane? He coughs and sits down, adding another layer to the loud silence. The woman walks over to the conveniently placed table with water, coffee and tea “do you want anything to drink, dad?” she asks the older gentleman, who answers with a waving motion of his hand, indicating no. She nods and pours a cup of coffee for herself, filling the room with a faint but distinct aroma, creating a feeling of wakefulness, that for a short moment removes the heavy feeling of silence. She sits down beside her farther, and the chair reacts to her weight then falls silent again. “Clyde McDonald... Clyde McDonald... The doctor will see you now”. Another older gentleman grunts and stands up, with the help of an older woman, most likely his wife. He drags his feet across the floor, the rubber on his soles squeak as he leaves the room, leaving his wife behind to wait for him. The secretary closes the door behind him with a small thud blocking out the sounds of the outside world. The door is made to close slowly as to avoid further noise. It is as if this room is made to keep out the sound of the other world... or keep in silence. When people enter, they stop talking, they stop interacting with words and only makes noise when they have to. It is as if, the waiting room is alive, and it is choosing to block out unnecessary buzz and people seem to obey it without a question. The door opens again, the clock is 11:36, 6 minutes past my appointed time and with every tick of the clock, the further I stray away from my appointment, the longer I have to wait. A mother and a child enter. The child has not yet learned the unwritten rule of the waiting room, and the room recognizes that. An eerie feeling fills the room, every time the child talks and his mother know, as she quietly urges the child to stay silent. “but mom, look!” the child exclaims as he pulls out an old plastic toy from the children's play area. An area that appears to be frozen in time, dirty and untouched for what seems like an eternity. The mother looks at the child with a glance louder than the silence of the room and the child, reluctantly takes place beside his mother, still with the plastic toy in hand. “you can play with it, but you will have to stay silent” the mother adds and pulls out a book and starts reading. A small dissatisfied sound escapes the mouth of the child but he obeys and plays on in silence, only for the sound of plastic hitting plastic to fill the void instead. Yet again the door opens and the secretary speaks. “Alex Smith, the doctor is ready for you”. Finally. I stand up, the chair reacts, almost seems relieved that a weight is lifted. It is not that I am heavy, but the chair is old, just like the play area. It is weird, it is a dead thing, yet it seems so alive, just like the room itself. I have to cross the whole room, as I had placed myself in the farthest corner, away from the door. From this corner, I had a view of everything. I pass the older gentleman with the cane, who replaced the heavy breathing of the woman who left before he entered. With his breathing follows a smell of old tobacco and what could be whisky. His daughter is engrossed in one of the magazines and every once in awhile, she will turn a page, adding yet another layer to the silence. The sound of the magazine pages and the sound of the book pages turning is competing on a silent level, to fill the room with a cacophony of flutter or... flicker? On the opposite side of the room is a young mother, half asleep with a new-born child at her breast. The sound of the baby suckling milk is suddenly way more distinct than before. It is almost as clear as the young mothers heavy breathing indicating her listless state. I exit the room and into the hallway “your doctor will be in room number 4”. I look down the hallway, rooms on both sides, even numbers to the right and uneven numbers to the left. It is as if I entered into another world, the sound of phones ringing is clear now and is followed by an indistinctive talk, something the waiting room did not have. I enter the doctor’s office for my yearly health check.