The Doctor's Waiting Room.....

Friends:
The Doctor's Waiting Room....
"...they also serve who only stand and wait."
Sonnet XIX, John Milton

The revolving door opens into a doctor's waiting room full of people like us...sick people, mostly, why else sit around such a desolate place?

You’ve been in these rooms before. It starts early, this waiting. Our parents gawked from one when we were wheeled out, freshly born, shocked to see a red, shriveled, screaming organism. Years later, here we are, back again in The Doctor’s Waiting Room!

Last week Patient Number 48551 walked into the stale atmosphere of Cardiac Room # 2. There is a certain air of seriousness about a cardiac waiting room...two heartbeats from eternity is no laughing matter. The whispered buzz of steady conversation filled the room’s vacuity. Eyes darted and averted other eyes, and a collective nervous anxiety hung heavy in the room’s air.

Strangers whispered out of a need for relief. Responses were perfunctory, like: "You don't say?" or "Really?" or "My, that's interesting." Nobody really seemed to care, but the communication seemed to relieve the trepidation heart patients feel.

He noticed it first, the wall clock. The second hand ticked rhythmically as time's slow demise ebbed out, tick by tick. Perhaps an omen for some---did they forget to repent before they arrived? It set a somber tone.

Seated, Patient # 48551 studied intently out of sheer boredom the ever-changing crowd of “Waiters.” Germ colonies occupied the irrelevant and dated waiting room magazines…no need to waste precious last minutes on this drivel. Other distractions were plentiful.

Patient # 48551 avoided the incessant ticking by imagining the lives of “The Waiters.” He assured himself it was not out of some sick amusement, since the others were probably doing likewise. Delusion is helpful in Cardiac Waiting Rooms. Dead giveaways (oops, bad word choice!) are seen in faces, dress, language, body posture, fidgets and things like that. Imagine the possibilities, he conjectured.

Caught up into his own charade, Patient 48551 began to take on airs himself, making strange facial movements, tics, blinks, fidgets of his own to confuse anyone attempting to caricature him. He thinks as he smiles, "I wonder what role they have me in...Bogart or Brando?" Which would he choose, he mused.

A nurse shouts, "OK, Mr. Hematoma, time for your procedure." Asian perhaps, he thought. Later, "Mrs. Angina, the doctor is ready for you," Italian for sure…a beauty, and pity, so young. The voice again calls, "Mr. A-fib, your time”...a Muslim, maybe. “Hello, Mr. Lipitor, ready?” Obviously Jewish. And on and on it goes, as “The Waiters” wait their time.

Patient 48551 finally gets his time. Soon he emerges with a big smile...the day's results were negative, which is positive for heart patients. Free to go, until the next time, and there will be a next time.

The ticking clock was the last thing he saw as he revolved out. Its ticking still mocked “The Waiters.” But it reminded him of something: Time runs out for everybody sooner or later, but for him, not today….fate delayed again!

Next time, he thought, I hope they personalize that waiting room a little and call me by my name, Bud, and not Patient 48551!

Bud
September 25, 2008