Beyond the Waiting Room

 

        The assistant to the doctor walked in and took vitals, fussed with her laptop and made small talk.  I already had enough small talk for the day, so I declined her offer of more.

        Forty-three minutes later the doctor entered, glanced at her cell phone and reported she’d be right back and then she left, her assistant following close behind.

        Twenty-one minutes later the doctor returned, noticed her assistant was not there and promptly left the room again, not saying anything.

        This entire time I had been sitting on their inclined bed-like table with the white butcher paper stretched over it, as if I were a slab of meat to be wrapped.

        Not knowing or understanding their next scheduled arrival, I took out my little notebook and pen, thinking I had time to jot down a three-act play.  Maybe I’d call it Beyond the Waiting Room.

 

         "I think my blood pressure has gone up since I got here."