Where to begin… first and most importantly, thank you all so much for your kind thoughts and generous words of encouragement. We’re out of the woods, though not fully recovered and I promise to write a running blow-by-blow as my energy returns. Then it’s back to S[C]arah Tactics, my generational insights and the nurse’s interview.

Waiting Rooms:

My spouse and I have spent so much time in our doctor’s waiting room these past few days we actually gave birth to a game we fondly named “my butt’s bigger than that butt”. Seated between the nurse’s station and the reception desk gave us an eye-level (rear) view of all the patients checking in, paying their fees, asking questions. It was more than my born-to-be-cheeky brain could endure. I had to say something. So periodically I would lean close to spouse and whisper a number between one and three, indicating I thought my bum was that many times larger than the one directly in front of us. He would look up from his magazine and either agree or disagree. If he disagreed I would guess again. Phase two of the game addressed the issue of what people wore to their doctor’s office. We agreed early on that some items of clothing should never, ever be worn in smallish public spaces like waiting rooms or elevators. The ratings went from omg (oh my God) to omdg (oh my dear God) to omfg (well you get the picture).

We were snarky yet dignified, keeping the game just between ourselves until that disasterous moment when the sound of keys dropping pulled me away from my magazine and I looked up to find an anorexic-looking old man clad in bikini briefs bending over right in front of me and I hollered “OMDFG! SIX!” in what one can only describe as a knee-jerk response to sudden absurdity. Everyone in the room turned. One of the receptionists actually stood up and peered at me over the top of the desk. A nurse poked her head around the corner and stared at me from the doorway.

Spouse came to my rescue, putting his arm around my shoulder and saying (just loud enough for all to hear) “Aww, having a lttle nightmare eh?” So I followed his lead and said “Yuh. And it scared me!” That would have been a good save because really, other than just being too loud in cramped quarters, babbling a couple of unconnected letters and the word ‘six’ was innocent enough. But this was spouse. My spouse So of course he was compelled to add “That’s okay. But could you not point?” Which is when I realized my extended index finger was a scant few centimeters from the ill-fitting shorts.

We’ve been together for more than 12 years. I have tales. OMDG do I have tales 🙂

To comment on this post please scroll back to the title: Small Interruption – Update: Waiting Rooms and click the word comments just beneath. Thanks, OzMud

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