Everyone this side of the Brooklyn Bridge and that side of the Hollywood sign knows I’ve had this cough.
Not because I’ve told them (OK, maybe I have) (Shut up), but because they’ve heard me hoofing and yacking.
On Monday, I decided I’d had enough. Even I was sick of me and well, let’s face it: A little of me goes a long way.
I decided to break down and go see the doctor.
Of course, I can’t get in to see MY doctor, but I can see one of the “others”.
Not happy. But very phlegmy. So it’ll have to be fine.
My appointment was at 12:45 and I was signed in, stifling that snortish cough the best I could and glaring at the woman sitting four chairs over at 12:15.
Because she was texting. And her keyboard clicks were loud.
Loud enough for me to do that throat snort that made me gag a little. And I couldn’t really hide that gag part. Like, my shoulders kinda humped up.
And my throat got tight.
And it was totally worth it to see her look back at me and drop her phone in her purse.
Then I throat-snorted again just so she knew I meant business.
(I guess I think I’m some kind of bad ass when there’s phlegm involved.)
(God, I’m gross.)
I know I was 30 minutes early, but there were only 3 other patients in the waiting room besides me. And they are now 30 minutes late. What’s the hold up??
So, I get up and head to the receptionist at the window. I swear to you, here’s how it goes. In this order:
Me: (In a very nice tone and a good smile) “Excuse me. My appointment was at 12:45 and it’s now 1:15. Do you know how much longer?”
Receptionist Chick: “Uh, yeah. You’re next.”
Me: (That totally makes me get a huge scrunched down forehead and squinty eyes and a nose that is curled way too high and phlegm pressure building) “I’m next??”
(That word “next”? It had like 17 syllables.)
RC: “Yeah. What’s your name?”
Me: “What’s my name? Are you kidding me? How do you know I’m next then?”
RC: “Hang on. Let me go see something.”
I swear I couldn’t glare hard enough. I tried. God knows I tried. I glared right through that little glass window while I squinted so hard I could barely see through my eyelashes watching her “go see something.”
She could feel the heat on the back of her head. I know she could.
Then the door blows open, the nurse smiles and says, “Carrie? You ready?”
(Uh, no. Let me scratch a little more then I’ll head on back. Of course, I’m f’ing ready.)
She does all the small talk crap, weighs me, checks my blood pressure (that is now blowing out of every orifice I own) and asks what I am there to see the doctor for.
I go into full-on detail about my phlegm. And my cough. And I try my best to make it as gross as I can make it.
Cause well, I’m ticked now. And not feeling good. And I want others to suffer with me.
(And well, no one is babying me.)
She never flinched.
Guess it’s a nurse thing.
She took my little manila folder, walked to the door and said, “OK, the doctor will be in to see you in just a couple of minutes.”
And walked out.
It’s now about 1:30.
And I wait.
A liiiiittle bit longer. (Read that with a very high-pitched voice in your head.)
At 1:45, I got up. Crossed the room. Flung the door open.
There’s the nurse. Looking up at me from her little nurse’s station counter desk thing.
Her eyes are big. Really big now.
Remember that Seinfeld episode where Jerry’s dad is seeing the doctor and he swears the doctor stole his wallet, so he goes to the door and starts barking out into the office hallway?
That was me.
I totally lost my manners. I should be ashamed. But I’m not.
At that time it was no less than one solid hour since my appointment time.
To no one in particular because I am hanging out the door looking from side to side, I start saying really loud, “Really? I’ve been here an hour and there are a total of 4 patients in this place! Am I ever going to see anyone? JUST ANYONE!!”
My doctor came in. Yes, the one I originally wanted to see but couldn’t.
(He looks like Santa.)
Within 15 minutes I was out of the office and totally doped up.
And with a prescription for some more of the stuff they doped me up with there.
And today? Completely. New. Girl.
Shiny. Happy. Less phlegmy. Less coughy. A little dopier than usual…but close to being me again.
At you. Not at the doctor’s office people, but at you.
You don’t make me wait.
And I bet in the future, they don’t either.