Nothing like waiting 59 minutes in the waiting room only to be called into a smaller room where a stranger-who doesn't even introduce herself-tells you to "Step up on the scale please" and then informs you -OUT LOUD- of your weight-which matches your full term pregnancy weight-only you were pregnant 14 years ago!
Then you are stuffed into another room-this one with a paper bed-no windows and a metal tray stand on wheels-and they CLOSE THE DOOR! You notice the calendar has not been flipped for a month and 3 weeks and your heart rate starts to race. You're suddenly realizing you need major medical attention-much more so than just the little irritation you've felt in your nose.
I don't know about you, but when there's something wrong with me-or when I'm feeling like crap--the last thing I want to see are posters of people who look and feel like me...or worse. The cross section of the ear, nose, & throat--sinus cavities and all--do not educate me...they nauseate me. Looking at all of the sinew and cavities...trying to self-diagnose whether or not I may have "cricoid cartilege" in my throat only makes me gag. I do know now that the reason I am in this doctor's office is because of my nasal vestibule...who knew that was the name for your nose holes? Not I.
The 'muscle man' in the poster sports a very stern and serious expression...like when football players "pose" for pictures-chin pressed back into their throat-face devoid of anything resembling a smile. Whereas the 'skeletal man' has one of the biggest grins I have ever seen. Perhaps it's because he has nothing left to prove. It's as if he's saying, "Look all you want folks!"
While waiting in what is begining to feel like a prison cell I can't help but to take a second look at the red box bolted to the wall...the one labeled "Sharps Collector." I particularly feel like I am in a place of healing when I see the skull & crossbones stickers on these boxes...or the bold printed words "BioHazard Warning."
I can't help but notice the "No Trash Please" label atop the brushed silver trash can with the flourescent orange BioHarzard sticker on it's front...the translucent red "trash" bag overflowing from beneath the lid. It makes me wonder what exactly they consider the 'stuff' that is tossed inside if not trash??
And then there is the mirror. Have you ever been to the gyno and wanted to check yourself 1st...you know, just to make sure all was presentable? If you have (and you should) you will know that there is never a mirror to be found. But in my doctor's office there is a mirror---do we really need to be reminded we haven't washed or brushed our hair, teeth, and face for four days?
And nothing says, "Come Again!" like the licked-finger pages of a communal magazine or the infamous front desk pen--Gag!! These things just make me sick thinking about them.
For the record I ended up having a staph infection in my nose and in need of a prescription creme. When I returned to the pharmacy to pick up my wonder drug I was told that they were all out. Huh? Out of blueberry NutriGrain bars I can understand...out of medicine for the sick I can't quite grasp.
Then you are stuffed into another room-this one with a paper bed-no windows and a metal tray stand on wheels-and they CLOSE THE DOOR! You notice the calendar has not been flipped for a month and 3 weeks and your heart rate starts to race. You're suddenly realizing you need major medical attention-much more so than just the little irritation you've felt in your nose.
I don't know about you, but when there's something wrong with me-or when I'm feeling like crap--the last thing I want to see are posters of people who look and feel like me...or worse. The cross section of the ear, nose, & throat--sinus cavities and all--do not educate me...they nauseate me. Looking at all of the sinew and cavities...trying to self-diagnose whether or not I may have "cricoid cartilege" in my throat only makes me gag. I do know now that the reason I am in this doctor's office is because of my nasal vestibule...who knew that was the name for your nose holes? Not I.
The 'muscle man' in the poster sports a very stern and serious expression...like when football players "pose" for pictures-chin pressed back into their throat-face devoid of anything resembling a smile. Whereas the 'skeletal man' has one of the biggest grins I have ever seen. Perhaps it's because he has nothing left to prove. It's as if he's saying, "Look all you want folks!"
While waiting in what is begining to feel like a prison cell I can't help but to take a second look at the red box bolted to the wall...the one labeled "Sharps Collector." I particularly feel like I am in a place of healing when I see the skull & crossbones stickers on these boxes...or the bold printed words "BioHazard Warning."
I can't help but notice the "No Trash Please" label atop the brushed silver trash can with the flourescent orange BioHarzard sticker on it's front...the translucent red "trash" bag overflowing from beneath the lid. It makes me wonder what exactly they consider the 'stuff' that is tossed inside if not trash??
And then there is the mirror. Have you ever been to the gyno and wanted to check yourself 1st...you know, just to make sure all was presentable? If you have (and you should) you will know that there is never a mirror to be found. But in my doctor's office there is a mirror---do we really need to be reminded we haven't washed or brushed our hair, teeth, and face for four days?
And nothing says, "Come Again!" like the licked-finger pages of a communal magazine or the infamous front desk pen--Gag!! These things just make me sick thinking about them.
For the record I ended up having a staph infection in my nose and in need of a prescription creme. When I returned to the pharmacy to pick up my wonder drug I was told that they were all out. Huh? Out of blueberry NutriGrain bars I can understand...out of medicine for the sick I can't quite grasp.
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