Would it be Less Painful to Die?

I have been sick for a couple days and while I am not life threateningly ill I hate to feel less than my best. Mostly I have a runny nose and what is in all likelihood a cold. I know everyone is thinking, what’s the big deal? Just suck it up and get on with your life that is what big boys do.

This season is supposed to be a particularly rough one for flu and possibly even the swine flu. I have been harping on people for weeks to stay home if they don’t feel good. Wouldn’t you know that I am the one sick and I get to practice what I preach. In an effort to lead by example I am staying home getting some rest. I even went to the doctor to get checked out.

I have to start by saying I did not have an appointment. I just called and asked if they could work me in. Of course they can. I went to the doctor’s office a little after ten because they said I could get in around 10:30 before the doctor goes to lunch. I sat in the office fully prepared to be there for a little while. I brought my lap top and moved a chair over by a wall plug and began to write a story. I wrote several stories and a couple of them were far too long for my 1200 word column. I am sure time just flew by those first couple hours.

I heard the nurse asking the doctor if he wanted her to bring him a burrito when she came back from lunch. The doctor was busy and going to work through lunch. Excellent! I actually started to inventory the people in the waiting room and from my memory I could see only two people with seniority on me. Then again, maybe some of these people actually have appointments. I am starting get a little impatient and just a little fidgety.

I glance at my watch and notice it is 1:30 and I am actually surprised it is so late. I have been sitting around for over three hours and the pace of patients being called back is very slow if not non-existent. The nursing assistant comes out and calls the old lady in the wheel chair. I have no idea what the lady needed but she certainly wasn’t able to take care of herself and needed a great deal of assistance to get back to the room. The girl was small and the lady was not. I had to jump up and help when I saw that the bump at the interface between the carpet and tile was an insurmountable obstacle for the two of them. The old lady almost over the handle bars when the front wheels caught and the girl kept pushing nearly dumping the old lady on her face. As I was getting up the girl was backing off to get a run at it…Oh Shit! Hold it! Let me help you. So as upset as I was getting I still hadn’t turned on the entire world.

One late twenties tweaker that looks really tired and run down is the only still waiting that should be ahead of me. Man that girl is rough. I think she is drug seeking and probably needs a refill. I catch a break when the nurse comes out and asks her if she needs to see the doctor or just wants her prescriptions refilled. They agree that drugs are all she needs…somehow I think drugs are exactly what she doesn’t need. Part of me is sad and yet a big part of me is happy to closer to the front of the line. The nurse brings a small handful of prescriptions and asks if it is just the four medications. The girl makes a classic comment, “I really have no idea what I take or how many different drugs I am on”

My name is called I am taken to the back of the labyrinth of hall ways and rooms. The assistant takes my blood pressure and says the doctor is sorry he is running so far behind but he will be with you as soon as he can get to you…as opposed to? I get my phone out and begin to entertain myself with random facebook postings. I lay on the little table and take a short nap before noise in the hall wakes me up.

I finally resort to opening my door and generally just walking around the office. I visit the restroom twice and watch television in the lobby for most of Let’s Make a Deal. I am standing in the hall trying to help a maintenance man change a light bulb when a nursing assistant decides I need to shooed back into my room. We discuss the facts of life and it being a free country. Ultimately, I give in and return to the doorway of my room placing my toes just behind the threshold. I feel six years old.

The doctor comes in listens to my lungs and sends me home. That fast.

I am home by 4:30 and it only cost me six hours of my life to go get checked out.


One Response to “Would it be Less Painful to Die?”

  1. jon olson Says:

    Where do I read your 1200 work articles Vic?

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