I spent my Friday afternoon at the doctor's office. You see, I've had this tremendously awful cough/nose/face thing for about three weeks (seriously, it makes my face hurt), and I just can't seem to get over it. Apparently, though, so does the rest of San Angelo. Good thing I had a book with me.**
All I wanted was a shot and some killer cough medicine. If you're a friend of mine, you know the kind of cough medicine I'm talking about. The kind that not only suppresses the annoying cough, but it also knocks you out cold? Yep, that's the one. Sweet, glorious relief...
I got what I wanted, but it wasn't until I waited for three hours to get it.
Now, here's the real reason for this post. What in the heck are those doctors doing back there that takes three hours?! I say there were a lot of people in that waiting room, but I counted. I counted! There were only 8 other coughing, sniffling, groaning patients ahead of me! Once you get back there in your little room where you have to sit on the uncomfortable paper covered table-bed thing and sit for 20 more minutes, the doctor comes in, asks a couple questions, writes a prescription, and sends you out. This takes not 10 minutes. 10. Maybe 5! Even though it's absolutely necessary as I can't keep Brian up another night with the coughing, it's really rather annoying.
I imagine, in my sick stupor, that the doctors and nurses are playing some kind of game, messing with our heads, waiting to see which patient will crack first - room 1, 2, or 3. I won't cave. I need my cough medicine.
To my friends that work in these places, to my doctor friends - what is going on back there? Don't say paperwork. What's the secret?
**The book I finished in the waiting room, The Lovely Bones, was phenomenal. I might be the last person to actually read it, but if you are behind even me, you should pick it up. It's sad and touching and lovely.
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