There's no comfort in the waiting room

Every so often, hopefully less often, you experience a day you would never want to repeat. I recently had one of those days. While, I would rather never experience that day again, the day is worth mentioning.
On Friday I went snowboarding with a group of friends. After buying a season's ski pass, I have tried to make this a weekly ritual. On most occasions, this weekly ritual is the best form of therapy from a hard week. However, this trip ended differently. Our group was enjoying the fresh powder and back-country terrain, until we reached the bottom of the hill. At the bottom we noticed two people from our group were missing. Our questions were quickly answered as Drew, of the missing friends, called and informed us that Trevor, the other missing friend, had crashed. With ski patrol we retraced our tracks, and found him laying face up, shaking with pain. The sound of his breathing indicated the great amount of pain and effort it took to simply breathe. We tried to comfort him, telling him "everything is going to be okay." In truth we were trying to convince ourselves of just that. It took roughly an hour, but we were finally able to get him into an ambulance and to the hospital.
After reaching the hospital we were directed to the waiting room. We walked past several people, each wearing a sullen expression, reflected what we were also feeling.
We met up with his family, whom we contacted on the drive, and told them of our experience in further detail. Though it had just an hour ago happened, the story seemed so surreal out loud. The conversation died down after that. As I sat there, I couldn't help but be reminded of the song "What Sarah Said", by Deathcab for Cutie. The lyrics continually played through my mind, "It came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time, as I stared at my shoes in the ICU that reeked of piss and 409. i sat amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines, in a place all fear to say goodbye." I lifted my head, looked around and found that everyone was silently inspecting their own shoes. No one was reading the magazines, just lost in their world of questions and worries. "I rationed my breathes as I said to my self, 'have I already taken to much today?' Then I looked around at all the eyes on the ground as the t.v. entertained itself." I looked around again and saw the family's worried, easy-to-read expressions. Small talk is in short supply in the waiting room. Everyone feels the need to fill the silence with words, but silence's serious presence batters off courage. "There's no comfort in the waiting room, just nervous faces bracing for bad news. Then the nurse comes round, and everyone lifts their head, I am thinking of what Sarah Said." The nurse came up to us with a clipboard in hand. She looked at the clipboard, then to her side, then eventually told us that Trevor had broken all his ribs on his left side, many in two places. In addition he had a serious concussion, and punctured one of his lungs. To his fortune it had only partially deflated.
Strictly family was allowed to visit him in his hospital bed. After spending four hours in the ICU waiting room, we left, forced to return back to our separate realities. We contacted everyone we could think of that would want to hear about Trevor's state. We then rallied visiting groups and friends to visit him in the next coming days. Pity food and support was all we could do for him now. Though cookies can't heal the wounds, they can heal the soul.
It was then that I noticed my car was still up at the resort, my keys and phone locked inside. My friend offered me a ride up, a kind act well received. After opening my car, I noticed I had two voice-mail messages on my phone. Apparently, the first message informed me, my work had changed the schedule and I had been placed to work at 6:00 p.m. today instead of Saturday. The second message an hour later was my boss wondering why I was not there yet. It was now 8:00 pm, and I had to drive from Salt Lake to my work in Orem. In an effort to get there as soon as possible I drove quickly. The highway-patrol man believed that was too quick, he pulled me over on the freeway and gave me an expensive ticket.
I eventually got to work. I spoke with my boss for several minutes and was relieved to hear that the scheduling error was not my fault, but my bosses mistake. However, they were low on help, so they asked me to stay. They also informed me that tonight was a rare night were the store would be open till past midnight selling a midnight release of the movie Eclipse. I stayed till past midnight, 12:45 to be exact, cleaning up Twi-hard fan's (die hard fans of the Twilight series, usually young teenagers or 42-year-old moms) mess.
Around one o clock I got home, physically, mentally, and emotionally tired from the day. At home I realized that my laundry was at my house in Salt Lake, a cherry on the top of a fantastically dreadful day.
I sat in self-pity for a few minutes, until I came to my senses. Though I had a rough day, I had gained some perspective. My day was no where as bad as Trevor's day. I may have been tired, and frustrated with a series of bad luck moments, but Trevor had one bad-luck moment that would dramatically effect the next several months.
Two days before this dreadful day, I received a challenge/assignment in one of my classes. The challenge was to do something nice for someone in stress this weekend. The assignment was meant to get us out of our regular routine by doing something completely unselfish. While last two days have been filled with unselfish acts of support for a friend, I did not act because of a school assignment. In fact, I pity the person that needs a school assignment as motivation to do what is right in moments like this weekend.
The assignment didn't come to my mind until Saturday afternoon, when my roommate's girlfriend Elise, brought me a plate of cookies. She had heard about my rough day, and wanted to bring something to cheer me up. The irony of the situation was overwhelming. I had an assignment to do something small and nice for someone under a lot of stress. It never came to my mind, upon getting the assignment, that I would be the one in the stress. The assignment seemed trivial, but now I see the importance of a small plate of cookies.