Stream of Consciousness Day. Start with the sentence “_______”just write, don’t stop, don’t edit. Post!
Okay, here goes…many of the thoughts you’ll read are based on yesterday45-minute wait at the imagining center for my annual mammogram. By the way, you can still join us for the Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge at http://blog.wegohealth.com/2012/04/12/hawmc-day-12-2/
Husband dropped me off, he’s pacing in the lobby with his cell phone. Please don’t worry, I keep trying to tell him telepathically. It’s a routine test…I’ll be out in a few minutes.
Twenty minutes later, still waiting, husband has stepped outside. Must need fresh air, my poor sweetheart. Meanwhile, I’m watching HGTV in the waiting room. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him walk back in through the lobby door. Ten minutes later, I’m still watching TV. I still try to send positive thought waves to my husband…nothing’s wrong, just a delay…long line ahead of me…please don’t worry. It’s nearly half an hour after my appointment time.
At the reception desk, a young man struggles to understand the reality of $1000 insurance deductibles. A young woman patient emerges from the exam room and makes another appointment for the next day. Tomorrow? she asks. So soon? Yes, it has to be soon, the receptionist explains. Other women sit with me in rows of chairs, determined to look unconcerned, nonchalant. We watch TV, balance our checkbooks, get up and glance over magazines.
The exam room door opens again and I hear my name. Within minutes, I’m back in the waiting room, heading out the door, glad it’s over but wondering if I will soon see a call from my doctor on my cell phone.
I look for my husband in the lobby. Can’t find him, but I hear him call my name from behind as I head toward the door. I’m relieved to have someone to talk to. I hate the feeling that I must fear parts of my own body.
“We’re getting cable this afternoon,” he smiles, after I assure him that I’m fine. “It was so busy in the lobby, I had to go outside to make the call.”
“Let’s stop for pizza,” husband suggests. I welcome the distraction…already, I am checking my cell phone.