musingsonwomenshealth.com

Reflections on 40 years as a doctor in Women's Health

Bus-world


I travel a lot by bus now that I am retired; I enjoy the commotion, the accidently overheard conversations, and the interesting habits on display. It’s difficult to be lonely on a bus. I don’t notice everything, of course; some things slip under the radar because they are not unusual. How many elders are just not crowd-pleasers? How many workaday people get on and off as the bus plods its way through the tree-laden green of Marine Drive on Vancouver’s North Shore? For that matter, how many women ride to town with their babies, forcing the elderly to move from their reserved seats to accommodate the strollers?

Less common, of course, are the women who eschew baby carriages for their charges and feel more comfortable wearing them close to their chests. Even I, in the depths of Time, occasionally wore a Snugli to carry one of my babies when my wife was called in to work. But less common, I think, are the women who simply carry their babies in their arms while riding the sometimes crowded bus. Still, unless the baby is fussing, or crying it doesn’t usually attract my attention if I’m a few seats away -like the other day…

I happened to glance a few seats ahead of me across the aisle and noticed a bobbing head dangling like an almost fallen purse from a woman’s lap -a purse with eyes, however. How cute, I thought: a curious, but still drowsy baby interested in what was going on in the strange new world of a bus. I could tell it was curious because I could see its eyes occasionally blinking open, before sleepiness caused them to shut. But it didn’t look as if it was about to cry, so I resumed an idle examination of the passing trees outside, occasionally greeted by a road, or a person running for the bus stop. There’s so much to watch on a bus.

The excitement of following the out-of-breath, frantically waving man trying to catch the driver’s attention and then winning a place in the elder’s section only held my attention for a while though, so my eyes drifted back to the baby’s head still bobbing into the aisle from the woman’s lap. She was occupied by something else -her phone, most likely. I couldn’t actually see what she was doing but she seemed not at all concerned about her baby’s head hanging in the aisle.

And the baby evidently didn’t mind. Although that area of the aisle was shadowed on and off as the trees outside blocked the sun, I could still see its eyes randomly opening and closing, as if tempted equally by sleep and curiosity about whether or not there was anything worth watching. A random pothole or bump in the road, opened them and then, when things smoothed out, they closed again.

What a life babies led, I thought: the luxury and safety of a mother’s lap, and the ability to learn things  probably never seen before: the fascinating world of a constantly changing aisle; the laughter and conversations of strangers, and the option to sleep if nothing much changed.

I worried about the bobbing of its head though: much of it seemed sideways, not up and down like adults often do when agreeing with someone; it didn’t seem like a natural movement, but on the other hand, judging by its eyes, the baby didn’t seem to mind. Still, if a rugby referee saw something like that after a tackle, the receiving player would likely have to leave the field for an HIA (head injury assessment). Strange thoughts like that are what frequently occupy my shifting imagination; you can see why I prefer travelling to town on a bus rather than swearing at other drivers in traffic. But, as usual, I digress.

The baby and its bobbing head began to bother me as I watched its seemingly harmless excursions. Surely the mother noticed; or was she so involved with her phone that it didn’t concern her: if the baby were in trouble it would cry, or fuss. But with a young baby, I knew that it probably didn’t yet  have the musculature to adjust its heavy head if it hung too far off the seat.

I was tempted to leave my place and walk down the aisle to express my concerns, but how would she take that? As merely a criticism from an ignorant stranger? As an ‘it’s none of your business’ mister? Or worse, as a criticism of her job as a mother -something I suspect that no woman would tolerate without a fuss.

So, I thought I’d give it a few more minutes and see if she became a little more attentive to her baby. I have to say however, that I wondered why nobody else had noticed; nobody else seemed to be keeping a close watch down the aisle at the two of them. Was everybody too fixated on their phones, or on themselves, to care?

Finally, when I thought I could take it no longer, I saw her reach for the bus cord and adjust something on her lap. At last, I thought may be she’d notice, but all that happened was that she suddenly jerked the head back while she fiddled with something else on her lap. I couldn’t believe anybody would treat a baby like that. From the back, at least, the woman seemed otherwise ordinary: her long auburn hair was fastened into a still intact bun and what I could see of her pale blue blouse seemed clean and almost wrinkle-free. But, I guess you can’t really tell much from a mother’s clothes.

I tried to disguise my stare as she stood to exit her seat, but she still seemed to be fussing with something on the seat beside her: a little girl. Both were smiling, but the girl kept reaching for something her mother had been holding for her on her lap: a doll -one of those ones whose eyes apparently opened or closed depending on its position…

I smiled at them both (well, all three as they  walked past me to exit from the rear doors) and the little girl noticed and proudly held her doll up for me to see as she passed: a little practice-mothering.

You learn a lot about people when you travel on a bus, don’t you think…?

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gozzter

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