More Waiting

A doctor’s waiting room in the middle of the day. Several white-haired patients reading outdated magazines, a couple of mothers with sniffy children and me, by the door, trying to keep as far away from everyone as possible.

Problem number one is what to do with my hands. My feet are shuffling away under my seat but my hands are more obvious. I grip on to the sides of my chair and try not to think about all of the germs I have made contact with.

Why would anyone want to sit so far inside the room? Can’t they see how trapped they are? The door is open and a nice, fresh breeze is blowing past me. I breathe it in and try to calm myself down.

“You’ll be alright, at least until you get home. You just have to be okay for an hour or so.”, I tell myself. I am only there to get some prescriptions. I cannot talk about how hard things are again.

One of the receptionists walks past me and closes the door. I am aware of how silent it is without outside sounds and how stale the air feels. Ten other people breathing in and out. Recycled air going around and around. I hate it. I want to stand outside but I am sick of always having to be different. Why can’t I just sit and wait like everyone else?

Someone else comes through the door and doesn’t shut it properly. Within a few seconds a breeze has opened it completely and I feel momentarily relieved until I am faced with another problem. If the receptionist sees that the door is open, she will think that I have opened it. I could tell her that the wind blew it open but what if she doesn’t believe me?

I close the door as if I am bothered by the cool air just like everyone else seems to be. I wish I had walls and a door to close around just myself.

 

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3 thoughts on “More Waiting

  1. You paint a picture with your words Miss Double S. You truly have skills. When the receptionist peeks over just stick out your tongue. 😉

    Some fresh air for you would be a great thing. Yes this is a double meaning. A tiny change up to make things interesting.

    Big Hugs!

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