A Response to a Response on Chronemics and a Lesson at the ER

[This is my yammering response to Dani's comment on the chronemics post. Dani is hilarious. Jaclyn and Maria, I know we all look so awful in that picture, and that is why I made it small. Heh.]

You're right, I am teasing those who consider punctuality a religion. (Forgive me, oh punctual ones!) But I do have a lot of respect for on-time people because I am so lacking in that department. Mostly, it's taken me a long time to come to terms with my own tendencies to be late; I've become almost defensive about it so I'm not constantly crushed by guilt over little things.

When I arrive at a doctor's appointment and they're a half hour behind, I'll either be relieved or angry, depending on the relationship at stake. Like if I'm nervous about the appointment and want to think a while and get a feel for the office or keep reading the magazine on the coffee table, I say take your sweet time!

But, if, say . . . well, I dunno, I have a friend who got hit by a car in the parking lot of that hospital right then, I'd probably skip the appointment altogether and not think twice. I mean, what's at stake? A doctor who doesn't even know or even care about me as an individual, perhaps? A doctor who is also relieved I'm not showing up so he can do that urgent paperwork or call up someone who needs more urgent care? Maybe we have better things to do than see each other at all about a slight twinge in the knee. Maybe I should have stayed home or something.

My First Trip to the ER

I'm reminded of this time I went to the ER very late at night because I was having trouble breathing. Turns out I had some form of viral pneumonia. I had tears in my eyes from the fire in my lungs and hobbled into the emergency room, where I ended up waiting, I think three hours before they could see me. But being impatient wouldn't make me feel better--it would make me feel worse, and I knew that. So somehow I detached from time and entertained myself by observing, or people-watching.

There were other people ahead of me--some guy who was unconscious and drunk and beat up, a woman who was expecting and very sick and worrying about her unborn child. There were also two missionaries from the MTC who had swallowed those pills you put in water that expand into foam dinosaur figures. They were desperate to get out of the MTC and relishing the emergency room with the televisions and change of pace. I know, can you believe that? Hilarious, and disturbing--how could they swallow expanding foam animals to cure their own boredom at the ER when other people's lives were at stake?

Anyway, I just sat there for hours, talking with people and the roommates (and gnome stuffed animal--see photo above) who came with me (thanks Jaclyn and Maria) and sleeping a little, but . . . I don't remember being angry about the wait. Waiting and sitting still allowed the pain to subside, and allowed me to watch people who were suffering from greater pain (or stupidity) go on ahead of me. So although I was worried about breathing, the longer I waited, the more the pain lessened. And whatever super-strong medication I sat their waiting for, it was worth the wait either way.

As far as movies go, when I miss a movie I wanted to see, I don't mind because the movie will still be there in some form or another if I miss it. Unless I'm so emotionally in need of a movie right then that I'll be upset if we do anything but see it. I guess I take this to an extreme sometimes, where I care too little and diminish the importance of truly important things (are they important?) I don't want to worry about. I used to suffer from deep anxiety and the occassional nervous breakdown because I worried so much about little things. I remember once completely losing it because I had missed a very "important" bus to a rehearsal in Salt Lake. I had stayed a couple minutes late at work helping the person I was training to close up shop, and when I missed the bus, I completely broke down into uncontrollable hysterics.

Apathy may be a lame cure for anxiety, but it works for me most of the time. No use crying over spilled milk. But my eternal perspective may be a little too eternal sometimes.

So if a meeting starts late, I'm happy because I can keep talking to my husband or my neighbor or myself. Maybe I can sneak in bit of reading. I'm kind of a busy body this way--I like to sew and knit and read and think and write when there's a spare moment; so if someone's late, I'm usually glad because, hey, so am I! And if a car ride takes too long, I'm usually a little relieved to keep busy-bodying, people-watching, or staring at the scenery before my attention has to go elsewhere. I love car rides so much, I'm usually sad to arrive at my destination.

And as far as those who are annoyed by tardy individuals, I can appreciate that too--latecomers can be an interruption. But if people are annoyed, I figure they're not empathetic people who have never once been late to something because something more important was worth the sacrifice. Or maybe they think what they're doing is too important. But I know I'm also in the wrong if I think what I'm doing is so important I can show up late for a painstakingly prepared lecture, or miss it completely. I do feel bad. I just try not to feel so bad it overwhelms me.

In this way, I've always struggled with the idea of a heirarchy of activities, and for that same reason I struggle with prioritizing my time. Some things in my mind are just as or more important than others, including blooming versus boring. If someone doesn't want to give me their notes, then more power to them. They obviously found whatever they wrote more important than I did anyway.

The punctuals and the tardies may never understand each other, but I hope we can still be friends!