Nobody likes waiting rooms.
I definitely don’t like waiting rooms. Yet, for a healthy person, I seem to spend a lot of time in them.
There are a few reasons this is true:
A) I am diligent about regular check-ups with my dentist and doctor.
= 4 appointments per year
B) I have been running regularly for 10 years (without stretching or using a foam roller for 7 of the 10) and my body is really, really, really angry with me (There isn't much a foot could do in the way of revenge, right? You would be surprised.) which means I have to visit both my chiropractor and podiatrist on a shockingly regular basis.
= 10,000,000,000 appointments per year...give or take
C) I have a slight tendency to…maybe…sort of…oh I don’t know…google minor symptoms and conclude that I have a very serious illness which will lead to horrible, horrible things. (see blog post “Self-Diagnosis Via Google is a Dangerous Thing, dated Feb 6, 2009…yes, this has been going on since 2009)
= 3-4 appointments per year
D) I am too organized.
This isn’t actually true in most areas of my life, but I do find a very real sense of satisfaction in keeping my planner updated. One January I did such a thorough job of transferring everything from my old planner to my new one that I moved an appointment reminder card for an appointment that had already taken place. So, on March 5th, 2011, I showed up at my doctor’s office right on time for my 9:00 appointment. The receptionist was extremely confused by my presence in the office and was even more confused when I confidently presented the appointment reminder card for March 5th at 9:00 am. She then, with confidence surpassing my own, quietly pointed out that, while March 5th was correct, the year on the card was 2010. It was embarrassing.
= 1 extremely short appointment in March of 2011
So, having spent time in waiting rooms due to reasons A,B,C and D above (admittedly more due to reasons B and C than either A or D), I have learned to prepare myself for potential waiting room situations with a few simple rules.
1) Always bring your own reliable form of entertainment.
2) Always grossly overestimate how long the appointment is going to take and plan your day accordingly (so you are only ever pleasantly surprised) and always have a cell phone in case you do not plan accordingly.
3) Be as nice and accommodating as possible to every single person you encounter – receptionists, nurses, fellow waiting room waiters, guests of fellow waiting room waiters, children of fellow waiting room waiters, etc. You never know who could aid/impede your time there.
I recently noticed some symptoms (to which I was probably over-reacting…again, see the aforementioned blog post) which led me to my regular doctor who, doing her due diligence, wanted me to take a blood test to check for the possibility of a blood clot in my lungs. That blood test showed an ever so slight possibility of a clot which then led to a requisite (but probably not 100% necessary) trip to the hospital for a CT scan of my lungs.
As always, I was prepared. This is how that appointment went:
12:30 – Leave work with the understanding that I will be back by 3:00 (worst case scenario).
12:50 – Wander around Virginia Hospital Center, not sure where I need to be (and, having not taken notes when on the phone with my doctor, not even completely sure what test/scan thingy I’m supposed to be getting).
12:52 – Ask the very nice retired volunteer at the Information Desk where I would go for a "test/scan thingy". Despite my incredibly vague understanding of what I am there for, she has a decent idea and sends me on a strange journey through winding hallways and random corridors.
1:05 – Miraculously stumble upon the right place, where (courtesy of my doctor) my name (and, fortunately, the correct test/scan thingy) is already in the computer.
1:10 – Take a seat and study the room to make a mental note of the 3,000 (ok, 8) people there and better gauge when I might be called.
1:12 – Take out my kindle and start reading “Freedom” by Jonathan Franzen. I’m at about 47%.
1:13 – Realize that I chose the wrong seat in the waiting room, as I am now completely distracted by two sisters who are loudly discussing their third sister’s love life and her seeming inability to make good decisions.
1:30 – The sister who is actually there for a scan is called in (thank goodness) but now the waiting sister calls the third sister (the bad decision sister whom she has been discussing for the past 15 minutes) and a similar conversation commences about the sister getting the scan. I have been reading the same page of "Freedom" since I sat down - still at 47% - but I know A LOT about these sisters…and their boyfriends…and their kids...and their coworkers...and their pets.
1:50 – The cell phone sister is suddenly concerned about privacy (Is it really that obvious that I'm eavesdropping? Kindle on lap and head titled to hear better....yeah, it probably is.) and has gone to the hallway, allowing me to make it to 48% of "Freedom". Now 3 of the people in the waiting room are discussing the nasty drinks they have to ingest for the scans they are there for. I’m annoyed that I’ve been distracted from the book yet again, but am also pleased I don’t have to drink anything nasty.
2:30 – I’m scanned – the end is in sight…
2:32 – …except no. I’m back in the waiting room. It turns out that the scans are sent to a doctor (who is hidden away somewhere in the building) to review before you are released back into the world - probably a good thing when a blood clot is a (however slight) possibility.
3:30 – Receptionist calls my name and hands me the phone. On the other end is a god-like (well, if God has been working in a hospital all day and is really tired) voice “Hello Miss Korbel, I have reviewed your test and the good news is that you don’t have any clots in your lungs.”
Awesome, I’m practically running out the door….
“BUT the scan does show a mass in your abdomen. We need you to stay so we can take another scan to get a better look.”
3:30 – 3:32 – 2 minutes of a fear/annoyance-induced trance during which I may or may not have returned the phone to the receptionist.
3:32 – I realize that my car is at a meter and that I only paid for 3 hours. The receptionist tells me to move it to the garage because, with their schedule, I am going to be there a while. (Rule #2 broken…apparently 3 hours was not a gross enough overestimation)
3:35 – I decide to call work to give them an update but find that my phone is not in my bag and is, in all likelihood, at my desk at the office. (Rule #2 broken again)
3:45 – Car moved and I’m back in the waiting area. The receptionist has a gift – with a smile she hands me two bottles of the nasty drink (I get the apple flavored variety which, I know from the earlier overheard conversation, is better than berry…so that’s good). I have to drink both bottles and won’t even be eligible to go in for scan #2 until 45 minutes after I start drinking. Needless to say, I start drinking immediately.
4:03 – The receptionist asks me when I started drinking the drink because she didn’t write it down. To be safe, she decides to say it’s been 5 minutes. I’m pretty sure it’s been a lot longer but am not going to argue because my fate is basically in her hands and with one remark or dirty look she could easily start my clock back at 1 minute.
4:04 – My kindle dies - I’ve made it to 49% of Freedom (Probably ok as I don’t actually remember a word of what I have read since learning there is an unidentifiable mass in my abdomen…so I’m really still at 48% and don’t foresee myself getting much further, even with a fully charged kindle).
(Rule #1 broken – inadequately charged form of entertainment)
4:05 – I kind of wish the sisters would come back… they were entertaining.
4:45 – A man who has been waiting with his wife since 4:30 complains to the receptionist that his wife was supposed to be scanned STAT and they’ve already been there for 15 minutes, which is “clearly not STAT” and is “totally unacceptable”. Everyone in the room (many of whom I recognize from before I went in for my first scan at approximately 2:30 and, therefore, long before the STAT couple) appears to be annoyed by this statement, as, due to the very nature of these sorts of tests, most of us consider ourselves STAT. I decide with everyone else that he’s a jerk and she’s a jerk and I don’t like either of them. (Rule #3 broken…to be honest, the nice-ness was lost around approximately 3:30).
4:50 – I realize that not only will I not make it back to work but will also, in all likelihood, not make it to Georgetown by 6:00 to meet friends for a movie. Unfortunately, I have no phone and, therefore, no telephone numbers and no way to let anyone know anything. The receptionist (with whom I have been irrationally annoyed since she told me to move my car at 3:32), apparently sees the tears beginning to well up and allows me to use her desk phone to call work (so I like her again…yes, my irrationality works both ways). Luckily, a very understanding coworker is still at work and agrees to find my phone and text my friends to let them know that I will likely not make the movie.
5:00 – I’m scanned (again).
5:21 – I’m back in the waiting room, nervous and bored (an extremely dangerous combination which can lead to some scary self-diagnostics, especially for a well established hypochondriach) waiting for the god voice to call back.
5:30 – The reception phone rings…but it’s not for me.
5:42 – The reception phone rings….still not for me.
5:50 – The reception phone rings…and it’s for me! ( but the god voice has to talk to the STAT woman and her husband first).
5:52 - The couple looks relieved and STAT lady hands me the phone with a smile but, as Rule #3 was broken a while ago, I don’t smile back.
“Miss Korbel, I have very good news.” I start breathing again. “It turns out that the mass was just bile!”
5:53 – I walk out of the waiting room almost 5 hours (and several terrifying self-diagnoses) after I originally entered, so completely relieved by what the unidentifiable mass is not that it doesn’t matter one bit what it actually is (which is actually kind of gross and may have been too much information for anyone reading this blog – sorry!).
5:54 – I conclude (it only took until age 33) that life is far too precious to spend time complaining about waiting rooms and immediately decide to add a new rule:
4) Spend any future free time in waiting rooms concentrating on the good things in my life rather than all of the (for lack of a better term) bile.
Yup, I would panic myself! Glad you are alright!
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