Took the day off yesterday in order to have my regular check-up. This usually involves the old blood samples taken in the morning, followed by a quick meeting with the doctor: take off your shirt, breathe, turn your head to the side and cough (I’m joking about that last one). I’ve noticed that the waiting rooms are becoming more and more busy, the beds are crowding the hallways, the folks at the reception are nasty hags (but then, they always were; there’s nothing compared to a government job).
Since I’m considered a “special” case, however, I have been advised to always go to the front of the line, and to not wait with all the others. So, although most folks will have taken a number for the phlebotomist and have been waiting in this crowded room for at least two hours, I can stroll right through, go to the reception, tell them who I am and be served right away. Funnier still, in an ironic way, is that most of the other folks in the waiting room are at least, at least!, 30 years older than I. I can often feel holes being burrowed into the back of my head by these sexa- to octogenerians who wonder why this young whippersnapper doesn’t have to wait. I was even yelled at last time by this elder lady who thought I was cutting through.
It’s such a strange, yin/yang sort of feeling; cutting in front of all these folks can feel disrespectful, but then it’s better than sitting with them, hearing them constantly complaining and thinking to myself that they had it better in the ’70s and ’80s, and knowing that part of the reason why our health-care system sucks today is because it was abused by the preceding generation or three.
posted by Michel @ 4:10 PM
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