Behind Door #2
by Stephanie Kemp


I hate this place.

Tiny room.
White walls.
Too bright.

No windows.

Plus, why do I have to always be behind Door #2?

Why can’t I ever have Door #1 or Door #3?

Why?

(And what kind of entire medical clinic needs to be Under Renovation! for over two years? It doesn’t exactly exude Everything is Under Control Here. I prefer old buildings who know who they are and radiate confidence infused with a high dosage of institutional authority. As an added Under Renovation! bonus, I can never find the parking lot entrance, even though I’ve been here dozens of times and the parking lot is the one thing that hasn’t been renovated or “moved to a different floor.”)

But back to the Door/s.

At least Door #1 exemplifies bravery.

It takes balls to stand there and say: “I am here and I am first! Take care of me so I don’t burst!"

In other words:

Marcia.
Marcia.
Marcia.

And at least Door #3 gets to take advantage of all that being last has to offer:

Hmm……

What is happening behind Doors #1 and #2?
What can I learn from them?
How can I escape before they come for me?
When is the fucking café going to be finished?
Do I have time for a thandwich? 

But Door #2 gets me every time (literally and emotionally, even though I have mostly really enjoyed my 58 years as a Jan).



I always find myself staring at the boxes of colored gloves vertically attached to the wall (pink, blue, green), wishing I could count them out to make sure there are enough (in every size) for whichever nurses I get, no matter how big their hands are or how many times I have to come here.

I always feel proud of myself for finally figuring out how to (easily) lift the leg rest on my bright white leather La-Z Boy. (The chairs are actually a very nice part of the renovation…s. I think the leather might even be real, although it could be leather adjacent or scientifically advanced pleather.)

I am always secretly excited to have 45-60 minutes all to myself, after they have assessed and weighed and poked and prepped my everything and before I go back into the tube.

I am also glad I (know to):

…Say yes to the warm blanket (and the extra one, if Ian is on duty and offers it).

…Say no to (at least) the (extra) blanket if it is an extra busy day at the medical center.

…Ask them to turn off the overhead light and mostly shut the door (or fully shut the door, if country music is playing in the hallway again).

…Listen for snippets of other people’s conversations that remind me to be kind and that everyone is doing their best (usually).

I’m glad I know to:

…Avoid staring at the CAUTION: RADIOACTIVE MATERIALS/ NO FOOD OR DRINK! sign on the door (with another one on the wall, to make sure no-one misses it), as I sip my water.

…Remain pretty quiet if my nurse is Debbie.

…Chat away if my nurse is Alan (or Ruth).

…Stay off my phone during the hour that the nuclear liquid weaves its way through my body.

(“You need to calm your body and mind down so that nothing falsely lights up when you are in the scanner. That liquid is looking for activity…” explains Ralph helpfully every time, even though he is a little strict.)

I will remember all of these things until next time.

When I will be put in what appears to be a supply closet (turned makeshift patient room) because it is a such a busy day at the medical center.

When I will beat myself up for forgetting my socks to keep my feet warm, especially because I am really happy to be able to feel my toes again and because remembering to bring socks is one thing I can actually control.

When there will be a next time (again), because today (we are now on the day when I was in the supply closet without my socks, in case you are confused - I am!), they will find two lights inside of me that are not false.

I will have a think on this and then hopefully forever change my thinking on what it means to be behind Door #2 (or Door #1 or Door #3, or a supply closet valiantly stepping up when demand is high).

I will remember how lucky I am to be so familiar with a life saving place that I can come to (think I) resent it.

I will remember how important a renovation can be, especially if it is taking care of structural issues or trying to make even one person (let alone thousands) feel (or get) better.



I will remember that I just need to adjust to being stuck in a (brand new kind of) middle that has nothing to do with The Brady Bunch or door numbers on game shows. (But while I am adjusting I will continue to tell anyone who will listen that I am  absolutely beyond ready to Make a Deal).

And last but not least (while also being first), I will remember how to find (and leave) the fucking parking lot.

Especially while I, too, am under renovation.



Cc: Kelly Corrigan, Eve Plumb, Tracy Hedstrom, Ginny Kemp, Martha Bluming, “Ian, Debbie, Alan, Ruth, Ralph,” Monty Hall (RIP)