The appointment was for 5.30 and I arrived at 5.15 because I like to be early for appointments. The check-in screen said ‘there are five appointments before yours.’ Five appointments take longer than 15 minutes, so I knew I was in for a bit of a wait. I finally got called in at 6.05, by which time I’d watched most of the staff leave, the metal window screens being drawn into place, and the one person left in the waiting area trying not to fall asleep.
‘How are you today?’ asked Dr John. I couldn’t resist the obvious reply:
‘Is it still today?’ I queried. ‘I thought we might have gone into tomorrow and I hadn’t noticed.’
Being the laid back, affable sort of person Dr John is, he merely smiled at my typically British love of sarcasm. He could have answered: ‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. Do you want this appointment or don’t you?’ I’m fairly sure that my previous doctor – an irascible Scotsman called McLeod – would have been at least that harsh or even harsher, but he’s now tending his Venus Fly Trap plants, or whatever irascible old doctors do in retirement.
The consultation was undertaken, questions were asked and answered, the medication was changed again, and I was given a prescription for yet another sort of pill with an unpronounceable name. I took it the pharmacy.
‘You’re only just in time,’ said the pharmacist. Oh, for heaven’s sake, is that my fault?
‘Dr John said you should still be open so here I am’ was the best I could manage in reply. She disappeared for several minutes and returned bearing a paper bag containing pills with an unpronounceable name. She handed them to me with a smile (which didn’t seem false, oddly enough.)
And while I stood there waiting, the woman who was trying not to fall asleep earlier wandered wearily past on her way to see Dr John. I greeted her but she seemed disinclined to reply. The rest of the building was eerily empty and silent, but the automatic doors still opened to let me out. That bit went well.
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