As the elevator doors opened, the smell of disinfectant filled my nose. A strange silence had settled over the occupants of the room. Posters of smiling faces hung from the white walls. We approached the counter where a frazzled woman balanced a phone on her shoulder and typed furiously.

“I’ll be right with you,” she said sharply, sending us a glare. Before I could even nod she threw the phone down onto its cradle. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, I need to check in,” I said slowly. What else would I be doing at the desk with a large sign saying “Please check in”?

“Name? Doctor’s name? Time of surgery?” She shot questions like bullets and I struggled to field them. She pulled out a stack of papers “Fill these out. Next!”

I carried the mountain of paperwork to an empty seat and fell into it with a sigh. Why can’t they ever have comfortable chairs in hospitals? After some shifting around, I finally found a somewhat comfortable position and began my “novel.” I suddenly felt as if I was taking the SATs again while I stared at the black-and-white pages. After scribbling my signature for the hundredth time, I brought the papers back to the receptionist, who snatched them from me.

“You’re welcome,” I muttered before taking my seat again. I had started rubbing furiously at the hard, itchy band on my wrist, but my mother grabbed my hand. I sent her a venomous look and slid lower in my chair.

“Are you nervous?” she asked, trying to distract me. Before I could answer, she started talking again. “You shouldn’t be. I mean, this isn’t your first operation, so you know what to expect. Yeah, you’re not nervous.”

While she continued the conversation with herself, I tried to get my arm back. After a few sharp tugs and some twisting, I still could not pry it from her grip. Giving up, I used my other hand to put on my headphones. As I sat listening to my music, it finally hit me: I was having surgery. A wave of panic washed over me as I struggled to remain calm. Instead of trying to pull my arm away, I embraced my mother’s hold. She gave me a sympathetic smile.

We sat huddled together for what seemed like an eternity before a nurse in green scrubs opened the swinging doors. A hush filled the room, and everyone leaned in to hear what she was going to say. She glanced at her chart. “Elizabeth?”

I sat there frozen. My mother pulled up so I too was standing. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. My mom kept hold of my hand as we slowly walked through the doors. It was the scariest moment of my life.