THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, February 15, 1995 TAG: 9502150055
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E2 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: LAWRENCE MADDRY
LENGTH: Medium: 73 lines
SOME THOUGHTS while waiting to see a doctor. . .
There are 15 people in the waiting room and only five National Geographics, two that were published in 1939.
I have a scratchy throat and sneeze now and then. Otherwise I am OK except that I'm bored and have been waiting for 45 minutes. ``It shouldn't be long,'' the receptionist said.
They always say that. Ever notice how you never get the real skinny in a doctor's office? Not once did a physicians's receptionist ever say to me: ``Oh shur. You can sit down. But don't expect to see Dr. Zlottsky until the O.J. Simpson trial is over. What you see here in the reception area is just the tip of the iceberg. Behind those frosted glass doors there are so many hurting people it looks like the acres of wounded outside the railway station in ``Gone With The Wind.''
Not once.
So here I sit. I hope whatever the doctor does once I get to him isn't going to mean a shot. Dr. Zlottsky's glass cabinet has more needles than a ponderosa pine. He treasures them. Can't wait to fondle one and pop it onto his syringe.
And no matter how he pretends not to, he really loves giving those shots.
Betcha when he and his wife are giving a party he jumps ahead of his wife for the privilege of stabbing shrimp with toothpicks and then injecting them into a cheese ball. ``It's merely a slight injection Mr. Cheese and wahnt harrrt a bit.''
Come to think of it, how often have you heard a physician who's about to do something painful say:``I sure wouldn't want to be in your shoes, Mr. Jones. I tell you frankly, this next procedure is so dreadful your eyeballs may shoot out of their sockets like marbles.''
I think the waiting part is the worst. You sit thumbing through a magazine wondering what fresh hell the physician has in store for you.
Waiting. There's just too much of it. People are flashing messages across the continent and halfway around the world via computer links. In a heartbeat.
Then they go to a supermarket and stand in the checkout line for half an hour. Makes no sense. Stresses folks out, too.
I remember a heavy-set, middle-aged man I once saw in a Division of Motor Vehicles office. He had come in to get new plates or something. He stood in line with some old plates hugged under one sleeve of his topcoat. The poor man started shuffling from foot to foot at the beginning. Then a half hour later, you could see a vein surfacing at his temple, as though an insect had dug a blue tunnel beneath the skin.
When he got to the head of the line, the DMV employee told him he was in the wrong line. I thought he would throw a punch when the fellow behind him told him to move on. But he didn't. He just dropped his jaw and these long monosyllable - Ahhhh. . . Ohhhh - rumbled from deep in his chest. He stood there like a statue without moving, making those horrible noises. Nobody knew what to do for two or three minutes. Then, a pair of policemen, gently walked him to his car - one at each arm - the way trainers escort a football player with a concussion from the field. Terrible.
And then there are car lines. Nothing makes your blood pressure rise like waiting for a bridge-tunnel when thousands of cars are ahead of you. I know people who won't wait in one. Drive through two states and a half just to keep from spending a half hour in line.
There's a fortune waiting for somebody who starts a business. What shall we call it? Wait Watchers. You could phone Wait Watchers and, for a price, people would wait in line for you. In ticket lines for hit shows. Or in line at the supermarket on a Saturday. They could page you on a beeper when they were reaching the head of the line. Then you'd step in.
Somebody should really try starting a business like that. Probably worth a shot. Except the ones Dr. Zlottsky gives, of course. by CNB