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PatchWork
by Joyce Whitis |
Doctor’s Visit
The little dried up man in worn jeans and a beard was sitting there in the front seat when I came to keep my 2:45 appointment with the doctor. I noticed him because he was all bent over in his chair and held his head in both hands like he had the world's worst headache. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I wrote down all that personal stuff they want like, what year were you born in?
Silently I hoped they'd take him first because while I was only getting a physical, he looked to me like he really needed expert attention and soon!
The second floor waiting room at the Stephenville Clinic was full. Men, women and children sat in every seat and lapped clear around the curve in the staircase. If you've ever been there you will understand when I tell you that the second floor is really the first floor and that the first floor is actually the basement. When you get in the elevator to get a blood test, or x-ray if your knees are too worn out to climb the stairs, you see immediately that you have been on the second floor when actually you thought you were on first since you just walked in off the street, but what the heck, they never asked me when they built the building.
Lucky for me I found a seat next to the table with all the magazines so I sat down and started looking for something to occupy my time. Five minutes later I had to settle for a 1988 edition of Guideposts, the newest of the rather meager collection in this busy place. I polished that issue off in another ten minutes and started looking around to see who else was on the "worn out" list and waiting to see a doctor. There were quite a few!
Leona Roberts registered and came by my way. "Hey, how you doing?"
"Great, say I enjoyed the other night."
"Me too. It was good to get together again."
"Wish I'd brought a book."
"There's a good magazine over there, it's a '84 issue!"
We laughed and parted. I kept my eyes on the man with the devastating headache and kept myself busy for another five minutes by rearranging the contents of my purse. When that was done, I started on my billfold. I studied three snapshots that I held in my hand. They were my daughter's three daughters. Suddenly it struck me that they were a lot older than that. I turned the pictures over, 1991 they read...wow. I need new stuff, I thought to myself.
I looked at my watch. My appointment was for 2:45 it was now 3:15. I thought of all the things on my list of things to do today. There were at least five more before feeding time back at the farm. I closed my eyes and remembered Robert Frost, "And miles to go before I sleep....".
When I opened my eyes it was to look at my watch. The time was 3:20. I sat up very straight and pretended that had come to the clinic with a friend, that my friend's name had been called out and that she was in with the doctor. Soon she would walk through that magic door to the intersanctum and we would leave this place.
I played this game in my head for awhile and then my watch said 3:30. Ten whole minutes had passed! The man with the devastating headache was still in the same position, head in hands. I wanted to go over and push on his shoulder to see if he was indeed still alive. At the exact same moment that I staggered to a standing position, a smiling nurse, clipboard in hand, pushed open the magic door and called a name. "Devastating headache" jumped up and all six foot four took two steps to the opening and disappeared inside.
Whew....I thought, sitting back in my chair. Just in time too. They must know when you just can't take it anymore, and let you in.
For the next several minutes, I stared at a beautiful sleeping baby that his young parents guarded with their lives. The baby was all decked out in a blue pants suit in a blue carrier and was covered with a blue trimmed quilt although the temperature must have been at least in the low 80's. I made a wild guess that the baby was a boy but gaining wisdom with my years, knew better than to say anything that would irritate a couple with their first baby. "Such a sweet baby", I said. (That seemed safe. I hadn't mentioned sex although I'm one of the few in the country that hasn't in the past week.)
The happy young parents smiled back and kept slapping the baby on the back until a very loud burp from such a small body brought a smile to everybody's face and relaxed the tension of waiting.
I jumped like I was shot at the sound of my name. The little nurse was standing in the doorway waving her magic wand. I could enter! The doctor would see me! I felt so privileged!
The time was now 3:50.
To be continued.............