Doctor's Dimension, The

Making a doctor’s appointment is the equivalent of selling your soul because you lose all control over your life on the appointed day. Once you enter the land where time is forgotten, you’re lucky if you’re able to sleep, read or watch TV. If you’re still paying for faking sickness at school or work, you’ll have to sit elbow to elbow in the exit row, make a sick friend and have to pass through a series of time-locked chambers just to use the bathroom while reciting a family tree’s worth of medical history.

I’m convinced medical history forms were designed to make us grateful for just being able to finish and forget we entered a time vortex. Medical offices would do well to get Wi-fi to help mitigate the misery of the malady-laden since time management is merely an illusion created by the torture-driven practitioners of scheduling.

Now, whenever I have a doctor’s appointment, I’ve finally learned to make no other plans and simply join the cult of constant clock watchers who celebrate silently each time one is called to see the healer. I’ve also learned to come prepared with my computer, reading and writing material, water and snacks. I try to maintain a pre-postal mindset by considering it an actual visit, an excursion into the realm where time stands still in The Doctor‘s Dimension.

Related:
Patient-Centered Care, Hillary Clinton's Blood Clot, Concussion & An Insult To Common Sense

Technorati Tags:
doctor’s appointment, medical, satire, sick, time management, writing