Everyone must go to the doctor at one point or another. Fact of life. However, us ladies have the pleasure of heading to the doctor to make sure our lady bits are in fine working order quite often. Well, every two years at least. It used to be once a year and sometimes, once a year is just one time too many.
I get to the doctor’s office five minutes ahead of schedule.
The waiting room is one long narrow rectangle but is divided into two separate areas. As I walked in, the waiting room where I normally sit, off to the right, is packed wall to wall adults, pre teen and children. Off to the left is a smaller waiting area burdened with babies, toddlers and kids. The babies are all screaming their bloody heads off. I don’t know if babies are like dogs and when one dog howls, the whole dog neighborhood will start howling, but it seemed as though one baby started crying and then the baby next to them started to screech and went through both waiting area. I sat down in the corner, hoping that I would blend in with the paint on the wall and avoid the children running circles at my feet. The child of four, flopped down on the ground, obviously exhausted from running laps and started scooting on his stomach under the chairs. Numerous times I had to pick up my feet to avoid a small child from choking on my toes. I was slightly perturbed at this turn of events. If my mother was at a doctor’s office and we tried to run laps or scoot on the floor, bet your ass she would take us out side and either smack or bribe us into silence. Then the baby started crying. Next the family across from me is feeding their kids by hand (i would estimate these kids being 4-5 years old). Hand to mouth. The girl would then run across the length of the waiting area to her brother and make some racket and run back to her mother who would feed her a piece of hamburger and back and forth. To the left of where I was sitting I had two kids running laps and to the right I had a child alternating between launching himself around the chairs and people’s feet and running his laps as well. Okaaaaaay.
A spot opened up on the other side of the waiting room. I bolted over to the empty seat, thinking I got away from babies and toddlers … and I walked into a room full of children. Children fighting over toys and chairs and electrical gadgets and siblings and anything else kids can fight over. I sat in the chair closest to the door and prayed that the nurse would call my name. SOON. As the kids continued to bicker and make more noise than the other room, I lost my patience. Right before I turned into one of those cranky ladies in the waiting room that yell at other people waiting, i ran into a friend I knew and we started gabbing and then my name was called. Whew. I almost blew my top and luckily was saved.
Heading to the doctor is painful and an unpleasant experience as it is. Being tortured by other people who refuse to control their kids makes it ten times worse. I was forced into behaving in public when I was a child, as was the rest of my siblings. If we so much as stepped out of line, especially in a doctors office, the eldest (me) would have to take the brats outside and into the car or she would threaten “Dad” on us when he got home or anything she could think of to make us behave and be polite to other people who chose not to have kids. This doctor trip has reinforced my belief that kids are over rated. 🙂