Writer describes an encounter in a doctor’s office
Let’s face it: We have all been there (no pun intended). It does not matter who the doctor is, or what his/her specialty is, when we have an appointment, we know that we will never be seen at that time.
Even if you get the first appointment of the day, the doctor will find a way to make you wait. I know for a fact that the doctor is reading Dilbert and slowly sipping his/her latte, just to make sure we know who is really in charge.
We are held hostage by these medical experts whose opinion we seek and value. And we know if we walk out in disgust, we will only have to repeat the process (do not ask me how I know this).
Recently, while I was waiting in the doctor’s office (he was already 36 minutes late), the following incident happened, which I have attempted to recount. I was sitting in the far left corner, trying to be alone with my thoughts and as far away as possible from the other patients. Unfortunately, the seat next to me was vacant.
“What are you doing?” asked the person who suddenly occupied that seat.
“I’m journaling.”
“Oh, yeah? What about?”
“Some good stuff.”
“My mother, who was bipolar, died recently. She kept a journal and I found it and read it; it was astonishing. And my sister is also bipolar.”
“That’s too bad.”
“OK, so what are you writing?”
“I told you, it’s personal.”
[Silence.]
“Do you know who I am??”
“No, I’ve never met you. Do you know who I am?”
“Give me your email address.”
“Of course, I’m not giving you my email. I don’t even know you.”
Then, the office’s administrative assistant came over and told him his co-pay would be $2,000. He screamed, said she was mistaken, stood up and stormed out, never to be seen or heard from again when I have been in that office.