Just Waiting Here

Waiting to see the doctor has become something of a science with me. I have had to see several medicos recently, and most of them are quite prompt in seeing that I do not have to wait in the waiting room. Instead, I am taken from the outer sanctum, where there are magazines, to the inner sanctum, which has no magazines. "Doctor will be right with you," I am told. (Why they don't say "the" doctor is beyond me. Maybe it is advanced baby talk.)

But, I say to myself, this is progress. I am not in the outer room waiting, but in the inner room waiting. "This," I say, "is progress, for the doctor will see me before he/she sees anyone in the outer room, because he/she has to empty Rooms A, B, C, D, E and F first. That means I am practically next in line."

In turns out I am next in line, but Rooms D, E, F, A and B seem to get emptied before the doc gets to room C, where I am, magazineless. There are things to read, though: You can while away time reading the diplomas on the wall. These are good for at least 2 minutes and 12 seconds, unless you are visiting an opthalmologist, where the nurse will dilate your eyes instantly so you can't see them.

You also get to wait without your clothes. The nurse says take it off, take it all off, and so you do. Then you spend time trying to get comfortable on the available seating, which usually is marble or stainless steel, with built-in refrigeration coils.

"Doctor" eventually comes in, says "How we doing?" I think, "We"? I answer: "I'm okay, but you seem a little peaked today. Lemme see your tongue."

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My favorite phrase today is fast food. N., make haste, Pablo. Def.: What you eat during Lent.