Parking lot blues

The COVID-19 pandemic continues to affect us all.

This week it hit home for me in a very personal way.

My mother took ill with blood pressure issues which required a trip to a hospital emergency room.

My wife and I drove my parents to the hospital, fearful and anxious for my mom’s wellbeing.

We knew we would not be able to enter the ER with them.

As I watched my elderly parents, masks on, holding on to one another, I felt such a feeling of despair.

For the first time I couldn’t go with them.

I couldn’t sit with them during the wait to see a doctor.

I couldn’t reassure my mother as I’d done in the past.

All I could do was find a parking space and sit.

We waited hours into the night in that parking lot and we were not the only ones.

That lot was full.

I’d wait and call my dad for updates.

I’d get out and stretch my legs.

I’d walk around the lot looking at the windows in the hospital and wonder what room my mother was in and how she was holding up?

If this is truly the new norm and we have to live with this virus for a long period of time, I pray we come up with some sort of better solution for visiting our families while they are hospitalized.

I try to social distance.

I wear a mask in stores that require them.

But waiting in that parking lot was a horrible experience.

As hospitals rethink their design for the next pandemic or surge, I hope they can find some innovative ways to assist families.

I know I’m not the only one who feels this way.

I saw people in that parking lot visibly upset and one who argued vehemently with security while he tried to enter the hospital with his loved one.

I would also suggest more security.

It was the middle of the night and some people waiting treated the occasion like a block party, radio blaring, and basically partying in the parking lot.

I feel for all who have already went through this.

Whether at the hospital, the nursing home, or at a funeral. My heart goes out to them.

I realize the necessity for healthcare safety protocols, but watching a loved one enter those sliding doors and disappearing from your sight is such a devastatingly lonesome feeling.

There has to be a better way.

See you out there.