You have a routine doctor\u2019s appointment. You would just as soon be strapped into an oak chair and forced to listen to Katie Couric\u2019s prattle. But, no, you must keep the appointment and dare not be late. In fact, you must arrive early to assure that you have time in the main waiting room to read at least one Newsweek and one People cover to cover before you wait in the little examining room where invariably you rifle every drawer and cabinet in search of some medical oddity. Generally, all you find is the tube of jelly that gratefully helps mitigate the \u201cwave\u201d in finger wave. The day isn\u2019t good. On a scale of 1\u201310, 10 being a Category Five Hurricane, the misery index aspires to a 12. Fierce winds lash unmercifully. Freezing rains pelt like gravel. Frigid temperatures pierce the bone. Your inner voice begs, \u201cCancel.\u201d Nothing \u2014 but nothing \u2014 good can come of this. You\u2019re not ill and everybody knows it\u2019s bad luck to set foot in a medical office when you\u2019re healthy. Everybody knows you\u2019ll leave with a disease that afflicts only one person in 30 million. They will prod and poke and scrape and stick your healthy body until they find an intruder that sneaked in while you weren\u2019t looking. \u201cSo what,\u201d you think. \u201cA lot of intruders come and go and you never even know it.\u201d As you swing open the door and step to the receptionist desk, you bitterly resign yourself to accept the inevitable, an attitude ill suited for what would happen next. Soggy, windblown and numb, you stand before a youngish wisp outfitted in medical blues, slouched before a CRT. Cute thing, dark hair, dark lashes. You gaze, actually stare, at her bored expression, prompting her to notice you, expecting any moment to see her eyes flick up and hopefully light up with enthusiasm and possibly offer a smile that could dispel your gloom. A long minute passes. Evidently, she\u2019s in the middle of one hell of a crisis that must be resolved this very second. She\u2019s transfixed. Even though you\u2019re only three feet away \u2014 you could reach out and yank off an earring \u2014 she seems oblivious, like the waitress who refuses to make eye contact as you frantically wave your arms. Inconceivable. You think to yourself that Helen Keller would at least have smelled you. Be calm. If patience is a virtue, it\u2019s your chance to practice. So you pace slowly, finally turning to stand with your back to the wisp. Give her time. Three minutes in, just as you turn, she rises and you expect, \u201cGood afternoon, sir, I\u2019m so sorry to keep you waiting, blah, blah. . .\u201d But no, not a word. Not a gesture. Not a glance. Eyes downcast, she walks to the back of the office. This is your chance. Just leave! This scene confirms you shouldn\u2019t have come in the first place. This is the dreaded signal of impending doom. Your inner voice shouts, \u201cLeave now.\u201d Nothing \u2014 but nothing \u2014 good can come of this. Like a serial stalker, you stare at the wisp as she chats with a co\u2013worker. Five minutes in, she returns, sits and resumes the trance. You flat don\u2019t exist. You\u2019re nobody. The movie \u201cFalling Down\u201d flashes before your mind. The fast food scene is especially appetizing. But, luckily, you\u2019re not Michael Douglas and you\u2019re not concealing an AK\u201347. Instead, as menacingly as possible, you snarl clearly, \u201cLady, do you intend to acknowledge me in this lifetime, should I kick over some furniture or do you simply want me to leave?\u201d Slapping her would have been less of a shock. Gasping and offended, she hyperventilates and demands roughly, \u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d Give the wisp credit. She doesn\u2019t apologize but angrily plays the victim. Paperwork in hand, which takes her all of 5 seconds to produce, you wait to be called, all the while glaring at the wisp as she miraculously comes to life, gushing and dripping and fawning over every other visitor, as if to say, \u201cSee, I\u2019m really very friendly and wonderfully efficient and you\u2019re a jerk.\u201d You\u2019re seething, anxious to blow her out of the water with her superiors. You don\u2019t want a simple reprimand; you want humiliation, then the axe. You bide your time in the examining room, anxious to cast blame \u2014 only of course, after the doctor morbidly pronounces you have a mere six months to live. Incredibly, the sentence is not death. No, there is no intruder. Can you believe it? You\u2019re in mint condition. Giddy, half naked, you decide the doctor can\u2019t be bothered with a patient grievance. You\u2019ll take it up with the office manager on the way out. Damn well better believe it. Right now, though, like O.J., you want out of Dodge before the jury changes its mind. At the desk, you can hear the wisp sweetly greet a patient. Phoney. It\u2019s payback, baby. You take a breath to let the hammer fall. \u201cThanks for everything, Angie. You guys be careful going home. It\u2019s a mess out there.\u201d Outside, the storm rages, but you relish the icy blast and turn your face to the sky. Silly superstition or not, you just got a reprieve. Better still, you gave a reprieve. Your inner voice whispers, \u201cMaybe something good came of this.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
You have a routine doctor\u2019s appointment. You would just as soon be strapped into an oak chair and forced to listen to Katie Couric\u2019s prattle. But, no, you must keep the appointment and dare not be late. In fact, you must arrive early to assure that you have time in the main waiting room to … Continue reading Something Good<\/span>