There are a lot of things that annoy me: being hot and sweaty, kids with sticky hands, people who stand too close when they are talking to me, parents who let their kids run crazy in public, my neighbor who stands in his driveway to call Korea at 2am, slow-driving in the fast lane (see previous post), not getting enough sleep, strangers who touch your pregnant belly, and cold coffee, to name just few.
Yesterday, I had a follow-up appointment with my gallbladder-ectomy surgeon. It has been six weeks since my surgery, and this was to be my last appointment with him. I have been having no problems, no complaints, no pain. But I still had to meet with him one last time. I arrived 15 minutes before my scheduled time, and noted with irritation that his waiting room was chock-full of people who looked extremely frustrated. (Also, I was the youngest person in the room by at least 30 years.) I resigned myself to a long wait, found a seat, and silently congratulated myself on having brought a book.
So there I was in a room full of strangers, trying to read, but instead found myself very distracted by things that probably only bother the very high-strung (which was me after one of the most craptastic weeks of my professional career). The lady sitting directly across from me was at least 112 and appeared to be snoring while wide awake. Someone's hearing aid kept "going off" (not sure what the appropriate term is, but we all know how unexpectedly shrill that sound can be). The guy sitting next to me was texting (and therefore beeping), and a couple of patients on the other side of the waiting room were having a very loud conversation about vintage cars. The office ladies were joking and laughing on the other side of their closed partition, and I had the devilish urge to ask them what was so damn funny over there, because we sure as hell weren't having any fun over here. To make matters worse, it was about 100 degrees in the waiting room and someone needed to change his Depends.
ONE HOUR AND FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER they finally called my name and I was shown into an exam room. The nurse insincerely apologized for my wait, to which I said something inane like, "Oh, that's ok." Why do we say things like that? Clearly it was not ok. I just lost almost two hours of my life that I'll never get back so that the surgeon can tell me what I already know - that I'm good to go. There were a lot of things I would rather do with that two hours - sit at Starbucks, go shopping, watch my fingernails grow, ANYTHING but sit in that waiting room feeling my blood pressure go up by the minute.
And, as you can probably predict, my "visit" with the surgeon lasted about a nanosecond. He looked at my incisions, announced that I apparently "heal well," and then told me to call if I have any other trouble. His perky receptionist, completely oblivious to the fact that she was separated from a horde of angry, mutinous (albeit old) people tired of waiting in the hot, noisy, stinky waiting room by a thin little partition, said "Bye, now! You have a good evening!" Sure.
So, thing # 713 that annoys me is having my time wasted for a completely unnecessary reason, especially at the end of a long, tiring work-week.
Maybe next Friday afternoon I'll go to the DMV.