But see, the whole waiting process in the office is an entire subculture on its own. First, it's this scramble to get there before anyone else is there, so you can camp out in the car beforehand. Then, if you're not in the first five, you gotta stand outside the office, watching those smug faces, and make idle chatter about politics and the weather. Mostly politics. Well, this is if you're below the age of 45. If not, you'll be talking with the other old people. And this is the funny part, because from here on out, it's all an elaborate competition to see who's health is more fucked. In fact, let's put out an example here:
Old lady #1: Well, I'm here because my thyroids are as swollen as my husband's balls used to be and they might explode.
Old lady #2: Oh, that's terrible. I dunno, I've been this close to getting a heart attack, and the doctor's doing all she can to make sure I can avoid it.
OL #1: Really? Goodness, I had two heart attacks last year. Family's always had a bad heart, see.
OL #3: Hey, well, I'm having a heart attack now, beat that.
Notice how all of this also plays out as though we're all stuck in jail and they're comparing who commited the worst crime (between, say, bombing an abortion clinic versus assassinating JFK). Ladies, get over it. You're all about to drop dead anyway, what's the deal in comparing who's health is worse? If you're going to waste your breath on that, why are you still even standing?
So, back to the main thing. Finally, at around 8am, the secretary arrives, and we all file in and we fill out any medical papers and whatnot. Note that the time a secretary arrives will vary slightly from office to office. And then, the waiting game starts. And of course, mad predictions about what time the doctor might come in. Thankfully, this endocrinologist is actually quite punctual, and comes in at 9:30am, and starts taking patients at 9:30am. This one eye doctor I went to years ago though...well, I was finally free at around 4pm.
And then, the kicker of it all: as patients are done with their appointment and pay and whatnot, as they're going out, they say "que salgan pronto", which translates to "hope you fuckers have a horrible time waiting longer, but I don't give a fuck 'cause I'm fucking out of here!" You know what? Don't tell me "que salgas pronto", because you don't fucking care. You're done. The doctor's done checking you up, she's done telling you that you have acute pancreatis and that your pancreas will explode tomorrow. The rest of us aren't done though. We still have to sit here and fucking wait.
Well, in retrospect, I got called in at...10am I think. I don't remember because I lose track of time when I haven't had enough time to sleep. So, I'd like to take a moment to compare my self-esteem to a sand castle. I spend all day at the beach building it up, part by part, layer over layer. I finish, I stand back, and I look at my masterpiece, like a proud parent. And then a wave comes in and washes it away. In other words, my self-esteem is a sand castle. Or sand, whichever. Well, I did decide last month that I'd start taking better care of myself, so it's not like there'd be immediate results in this appointment. But I gained thirteen fucking pounds. I'm fucking fat now.
Just a note guys: I'm not actually fat. I look pretty damn good actually. Here's a picture.
Anyway, I'm not quite done with superheroe pictures yet, so here's another!
Click for larger image. Bat and Rob sure are going places, eh folks?
On one last note, it seems I have a slightly larger audience (from zero to maybe four). I hope I can keep on entertaining.