Waiting.I have been waiting on these hard back plastic seats for nearly an hour just for one other doctor in this world to give me some antibiotics and send on my way home. This time I have come to the hospital because Mum thinks the infections getting se

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Sarah Molyneux

English Creative

January 29th 2001

Waiting.

        I’m ill again. It doesn’t surprise me. Deja vu. I had to catch the bus from outside school, after persuading my teachers that I was going to a doctors appointment and not just skipping lessons. I have been waiting on these hard back plastic seats for nearly an hour just for one other doctor in this world to give me some antibiotics and send on my way home. This time I have come to the hospital because Mum thinks the infections getting serious, I cant notice the difference though. The hospital is a lot different from the doctors in town. I suppose its bound to be though. On the wall in front of me there is a big clock, and every minute I sit here it seems to go slower and slower. There are Doctors rushing everywhere. I don’t really think I want to be a doctor. You have to be good at science. I’m not.

 A man has just walked in through the automatic sliding doors, which allow an artic wind to run right through my body. He is wearing big black boots with a headscarf tied loosely around the big matt of curly hair left messily on his head. Pulled tightly over his big fat stomach is a t-shirt saying Greenpeace on it. His trousers are black and come to just above his ankle. He reminds me a lot like the man that used to own the music shop in town. A young boy follows him. I think it must be his son as he too has curly hair and is wearing a similar t-shirt saying Greenpeace. He doesn’t look at all happy. His arms are tightly folded and you can see he has been crying. I bet his Mums expecting a baby and he doesn’t want it to be a girl. Yes I am right, they have just made their way towards the labour ward. They’ll be waiting a long time in there.

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Every so often a policeman will walk past. They all look so bored, like me. I used to want to be a police lady, but not anymore. Not since there was a report on telly about the policewoman who had been stabbed by two burglars. There’s an old lady sitting on the end of my rows of seats. I think she should really be in an old peoples home. She is wearing a lilac cardigan with plastic pearl buttons. Her shoes are a navy blue with a bar going across the front. Her skirt is long enough to just cover ...

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