Rules of the Waiting Room

There are some things I’ve noticed about the waiting room in the UK.

People have to go to the doctor, right? I mean, we get sick. Even if we’re not in our home countries, we are human.

I’ve been to the doctor surgery in the UK three times: Once for a strange night-only wheeze while studying at Oxford, once for a sore throat this year, and today for my extremely itchy arms.

The point of the story isn’t the itchy arms, which is obviously an allergy for which they gave me a cream. No, the story is for the experience, which I think merits some sort of write up because being in any waiting room is inherently interesting.

I rang up this morning, after resigning myself to two facts: That I needed to go to the doctor and that in order to go I’d probably have to make a phone call.
*if you don’t know me, I have phone phobia.
The conversation went a bit like this:
Receptionist: Hello? *********** Street Practice, can you hold for one moment?
Me: Yes please!
My thoughts: please? “yes, I’d love for you to put me on hold. You seem to know my secret proclivities for hold music!”
During the actually holdmusic-less minute that followed I collected my thoughts and nibbled on the chocolate egg my friend and I got yesterday at Saindbury’s for a 3/1 deal. Milk chocolate meh…oh she’s back!
Receptionist:  Yes, How may I help you?
Me: I’d like to make an appointment
Receptionist takes my date of birth and name. : Can you just come to our drop in hours which are 10-11am? (NOW)
Me: Sure.

So I walk over there. London is beautiful in this weather, by the way. April you are truly a golden month.
Arriving, I let myself into the building and the reception room where I stupidly thought they would know who I was;
Me: Yes hi, I’m Hannah, I rang up earlier?
Receptionist who is obviously not the one I’d spoken to: Yes…what do you need?
Me: I called- I mean I like appointments- I mean I would like to make one- I mean are these the drop in hours for appointments?
Receptionist: Yes, (takes my name and birthdate again) Please go sit in the waiting room. We will call you.

Gosh, I just can’t get words out when I’m nervous can I?

Into the waiting room I go, acutely aware that I made a conscious choice not to bring a book.  This from the girl who always goes everywhere with at least two books.

It’s going to be a long indefinite amount of time.

3 thoughts on “Rules of the Waiting Room

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