Thursday, January 26, 2006

Seven Days, Six Trips To The Doctor

This week's theme has definitely been waiting. Specifically, waiting in Waiting Rooms. Since last Friday, I have visited five waiting rooms (one of them twice), and I will be in another this afternoon. So, for lack of anything better to write about today, and since I am now an expert on Waiting Rooms, I will describe them for you.

The first trip to the doctor took place Friday night, when Likes-To-Kiss-Frogs-Daughter had a wart removed from her foot. The pediatrician office is in a converted colonial, and the Waiting Room is what used to be the living room (complete with painted red brick fireplace, which glows all year long with its flickering electric fire). Most of the room is taken up by a large metal desk, behind which are file cabinets. On the desk is a phone, and a rolodex. That's it. They do not own a computer. The remaining walls are lined with plastic chairs, placed so close together that it is impossible to sit in one without touching at least four people...The parents on either side of you, and the squirming toddlers they're holding. In the corner is a little end table covered with beat-up Golden Books, and there are a few milk cartons under the chairs, containing the same sad toys my daughter played with thirteen years ago. The room has imitation wood paneling, and behind each chair is a grease spot from where people rest their heads. I do not rest my head.

Saturday morning was our second trip, back to visit the Pediatrician to have the dressing changed. Newly-Wartless-Daughter did fine, by the way. The novocaine was painful, but by the 3rd shot she couldn't feel them anymore. She has a wonderful pediatrician, which is why we go there despite the sad state of the waiting room.

Tuesday afternoon was my third trip to the doctor, this time alone, to my gynecologist for my "annual exam." I can't tell you much about that waiting room, though, because my mind has a self-defense mechanism that causes me to block out all details of my visits there as soon as I step off the elevator into the lobby.

Wednesday I headed off to an Internist to find out why my back & leg have been hurting for three weeks. I had the luxury of enjoying two separate waiting rooms there, one when I first came in, and another before I could leave (the medical assistant who needed to "check me out" had gone on break). I barely noticed the first waiting room, because I was filling out five pages of forms detailing everything from my family's medical history to whether or not I drink tea. The room I spent ten minutes in while waiting to leave, though, was nice enough, except that there was no reading material whatsoever, so I spent the whole time learning the codes on the form the doctor gave me to pass along to her medical assistant. Anyone want to know what GCDNA means? (Gonnorrhea, DNA probe...Fortunately that was NOT checked off for me)

Since the Internist believes I probably did "something" to my sciatica nerve (coincidentally, the leg pain started right after the car accident), she sent me off for X-rays. Sciatica nerve problems rarely shows up on X-rays, but apparently the insurance company does not pay for MRIs until an Xray is ordered (don't even get me started on that-Insurance will be a different rant). So, the next office I got to visit was the diagnostic place. This Waiting Room had four magazines, and six people waiting (fortunately not all were reading). The only one I had any interest in at all was U.S. News & World Report, but that was already taken. So I contented myself with a Parents magazine from October 2005, all the while casting furtive glances at the guy with U.S. News. His name was finally called, so I casually waited three or four seconds, then jumped up to grab his discarded magazine, and immediately heard my name. So although I didn't get to read about how Dick Cheney's a "Tough Guy", I can give you great advice on how to plan a Halloween party for a four-year-old. Too bad my daughter's fourteen.

A side note for family who may be reading this: Don't worry, I doubt I'll need an MRI. That's only if the pain doesn't go away after awhile...I expect mine will. The only reason I went to the doctor at all was to make sure it wasn't something more severe, like an ovary. Muscle & nerve stuff I can live with.

Today's visit will be for my daughter, to the Orthodontist. This is also a converted house, but it's a beautiful Victorian, and the waiting room is circular. The magazines they have there tend to be about teeth, but that's okay, because they have something better than a magazine...They have a puppy. I think every waiting room should have a puppy. It makes the time go by very fast. You have to be careful where you put your purse, though, because he does have a tendency to steal things out of them.

So, that's my week. I'll bet yours wasn't any where near as fun!

Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 10:06 AM :: 5 Comments:

View Comments

---------------------------------------