I Was Stranded Alone in the ER After a Wrong Number. Then Two Strangers Sat Down...

 

I didn't realize how alone I was until the doctor asked me who he could call.

I was sitting in the emergency room waiting area late one evening when he came out and told me they had tried reaching my emergency contact.

No answer.

He asked if there was anyone else they could call.

I gave him a few names.

Still nothing.

Then I remembered what I had done.

When I had filled out the paperwork earlier that evening, I had written down my sister's old phone number. I hadn't used it in years, but somehow, in the middle of everything happening, my hand had written it automatically.

Now nobody could reach me.

I tried calling my family myself.

Nothing.

One phone went straight to voicemail. Another wasn't answered. Someone else was probably asleep and didn't hear the phone.

I put my phone down and looked around the waiting room.

People were coming and going. Nurses hurried through the doors. A television played quietly in the corner.

Everyone seemed to have someone.

I felt completely alone.

A couple sitting across from me had been there for a while. I hadn't paid much attention to them.

The man noticed me staring at my phone.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small packet of crackers and a chocolate bar.

He held them out to me.

“You should eat something.”

I looked at him, surprised.

“I'm okay.”

His wife smiled.

“That's what everyone says.”

I laughed despite myself.

It was the first time I'd smiled all night.

I took the crackers.

“Thank you.”

“Long night,” she said.

I nodded.

That was all.

They didn't ask what was wrong.

They didn't ask why I was there.

They simply went back to sitting beside each other.

A little while later, a nurse came through the doors.

The three of us looked up at the same time.

The woman smiled at me.

“Still waiting?”

“Still waiting.”

“So are we.”

And somehow, that made it easier.

Over the next few hours, they kept doing little things.

They offered me some water.

They asked whether I wanted the television turned up.

At one point, the man made a joke about the terrible coffee from the vending machine.

Nothing important.

Nothing dramatic.

But every time I started feeling overwhelmed, I knew there were two people sitting across from me who would notice.

Eventually, sometime close to midnight, the doctor came back.

This time, his expression was different.

He told me the tests looked good and that the immediate danger they had been concerned about had been ruled out.

I finally breathed properly.

For the first time that night, I felt the tension leave my body.

When I stood up to leave, I turned toward the couple.

“Thank you,” I said.

The man waved a hand as if it were nothing.

“Take care of yourself.”

His wife smiled.

“Get some sleep.”

I started walking toward the exit.

Then I noticed the nurse at the desk looking at them.

I stopped.

“Do you know them?”

She smiled.

“Oh, yes.”

I glanced back.

“They're volunteers.”

“Volunteers?”

She nodded.

“They come in a few nights a month. They sit with patients who don't have anyone with them.”

I looked back at the couple.

“They're not here for a patient?”

“No.”

That answer stopped me.

They had spent several hours sitting in a hospital waiting room with a complete stranger.

Me.

They hadn't known whether I was going to be there for twenty minutes or until morning.

They hadn't known my name when they first offered me that chocolate bar.

They had simply noticed someone sitting alone.

The nurse told me there were several volunteers who did the same thing. They came in during evening and overnight hours because those could be the hardest times for patients who had nobody to call.

I stood there for a moment, watching the couple return to their quiet conversation.

Earlier that night, I had been convinced that being alone meant nobody cared.

I had been wrong.

Sometimes the person who helps you through the hardest night of your life isn't someone who knows you.

Sometimes they're simply someone who notices that you're sitting alone and decides to stay.

I walked out of the hospital carrying the same phone, the same problems, and the same uncertain future I'd had when I arrived.

But I didn't feel quite as alone anymore.

And I'll never forget that a stranger once gave me a packet of crackers and a chocolate bar when what I really needed was to know that somebody was there.