I make like the hundredth lap around this little ‘consulting’ room. It can’t be much bigger than ten-by-ten. By the time you put the little couch, a stupid-looking chair, and a tiny end table with a lamp on it in here, it can’t really be considered much of a lap, but I’m definitely wearing a pattern into this ridiculous carpet.It has to be the ugliest carpet I’ve ever seen. I don’t know why a hospital this big would have a room done up like this, but it’s nuts. Then again, it may be doing its job, if that includes distracting families in times like this. Being as this is a trauma center, I’m sure that’s probably its purpose—make me all pissed off at the room and not the drunk driver who put my mom here. No, not the stupid dumbass who decided it would be okay to drink then put her life—and everyone else’s, for that matter—in danger by climbing behind the wheel of a vehicle and driving on the roadway.The police officer who was here when I arrived explained to me that she was a passenger of a vehicle being driven by a middle-aged man who was heavily intoxicated.
