Mr. H. went for his pre-op testing today. Things went so badly that now I’m wondering if I’ll ever get him back to the hospital for surgery next week!
The weather didn’t help much either.
About the time he had to leave for his 1:45 appointment, black clouds gathered overhead and, in a matter of a few minutes, it was as dark as night! Torrential rain poured from the angry looking clouds and I, for one, didn’t enjoy it. Storms frighten me.
But hospital tests beckoned so Mr. H. drove on.
At the hospital, he had to park a long distance from the entrance, but fortunately for him, the rain had almost stopped.
Inside, he registered, was given a number and told to have a seat and his number would be called. He put the paper with the number 15 on it into his pocket and sat down to wait.
And wait he did!
At the beginning, there was only one woman waiting besides him.
This shouldn't take long, he thought.
But that was wishful thinking!
He watched while at least four new people entered the room, received a number and sat down – only to be called in very soon. They came, were called, and left with cotton taped to their arms all within a matter of twenty minutes or so while Mr. H. continued to wait.
He was beginning to feel ignored and about ready to leave when a nurse burst through the double doors and said, “Number fifteen.”
Mr. H. didn’t move. Finally, the young woman shouted his name. He jumped up and started toward her saying, “That paper’s been in my pocket so long, I forgot what the number was!” and then he added, “I was about to leave.”
She said, “How long have you been waiting?”
“An hour and twenty minutes,” he said.
“Oh, you’re lucky!” said she. “That’s not long at all!”
Lucky? How can you call waiting one hour and twenty minutes “lucky?”
And so... he had an EKG and a blood test and was finally on his way home, seething.
“If one more thing goes wrong,” he told me, “I won’t be going back!”
Neither of us is good at waiting. I once left a dentist’s office after a 45 minute wait. I went to the receptionist's desk and said, "I can't spend my whole day here. I'll come back when he has time for me." I was younger then and figured my time was just as important to me as his was to him. But after the dentist apologized profusely, I felt bad and vowed to be more tolerant in the future.
However, I’m still not sure I've mastered the art of waiting patiently.
And it’s clear that Mr. H. hasn’t.
Ah, what exciting times lie ahead!