The waiting room at 3K, while a wonderful and special place, is filled with 50 shades of fear and insecurity. We cover the gamut of: I've been doing this for a while and it sucks, but it's no big deal; I barely got in the door, and I need to sit down; and I'm desperate to know what the hell is going on with me/my kid/my mom.
I feel like I've lived through most of those feelings. Now and then I'm the chipper girl who's there for just another course of blood work. I've been the most tired person in the room after walking from the car to the registration desk. And yes, I've been the deer in the headlights who just heard that her cancer isn't going away.
I appreciate the books, artwork, and puzzles that they provide, but I also think that maybe we need to up the happiness factor a few notches. Perhaps a "joy room" nearby with bubbles, lollipops, and little sidewalks we can draw on with chalk.