Doctors’ waiting rooms are quite entertaining places, at least to me. I arrived with my mother at around 10:30 in the morning to catch an early number in the queue, but we were informed that the doctor arrives around noon anyways. We registered my name and went to sit down in the waiting area. . . and let the wait begin!
I wrote some things in my notepad, then proceeded to study some Heat Transfer (I’d brought my college work with me). The topic was heat conduction through composite walls, which was quite easy because we’d studied it about 3 semesters ago in a Thermodynamics course.
I looked up to see the people around me. Where I was seated, I could spot six men, four of which were bearded, and one had a little child with him. The TV was on, but I could make out what the ads were about because of the static. I could also see my mum’s cool boots.
I went back to my notebook, and it was only 11:00.
“. . . a 10 cm wall made of common brick and a 2.5 cm layer of fiber glass. . .”
There was an ad about some kind of facial mask, which is something I never got to point of. I also don’t know why people give me weird looks whenever I’m studying in a waiting room.
“. . . 250 mm fiber brick, 125 mm insulating brick and 250 mm building brick. . .”
The weird movie that was on TV was back on, and the main character might have looked like the Lebanese singer Walid Tawfik; there was too much TV static for me to make more shapes out.
“. . . Lc is the corrective length. . .”
I realized the guy on TV was actually the actor Mohammad Saad with a very fake wig on. My name was then called for “pre-inspection”. Some young doctor poked instruments inside my nose, peeked into my ears and almost took my life with his tongue depressor before letting me back into the waiting room.
“. . . a very long copper rod. . .”
There were people screaming on TV, and patients were talking all around me. I was getting really bored. My mum informed me that the reception desk owed us 20 pounds.
The movie was over, and one of the reception desk’s phones was ringing.
“. . . P.S. The graph method is not really accurate. . .”
They moved us into the inner waiting room, where there was absolutely no place. I was about to start getting pissed off.
Moving from Heat Transfer to Internal Combustion Engines II, which is all about Diesel engines.
“. . . the A-frame carries the cylinder block. . .”
A guy standing across the room looked like the very miserable version of Saddam Hussein.
The actual otolaryngologist (which Firefox would like to correct as “palaeontologist”. . .) checked me out and gave me new medications to follow. He also asked for some kind of X-ray, which later turned out to be a CT scan. I didn’t know what I was going to have then, but the full name of the process is computed tomography of the paranasal air sinuses. I later saw that on my report as well as the following technical data: Contiguous coronal 2 mm CT scans of the paranasal air sinuses without intravenous contrast medium injection viewed in a balanced soft tissue and high resolution bone reconstruction alogarithm (plates 1 & 2).
12:05 ~ 12:10
The X-ray place was much dimmer than the clinic (it’s a 5 minute drive from there, by the way), and the people looked more sick. There was an old man on a wheeled chair with a cannula in his left hand. A lonely man was staring at me like I’d eaten his children or something. There were another man and woman with an older guy between them, seemingly the “patient”. A little bored boy with purple medicine around his mouth was there too with two old women, probably his mother and grandmother. Next to me was a bunch of other people that I could not see very well; mostly aged men. There was also me and my mother.
A closed door indicated “CT scan”, with a wall clock over it and two squarish red lamps. The right one was lit. The open door behind my mother (which we later learned was the control room of the CT scan machine) had a little sign on it, demanding it be closed at all times to maintain the air conditioning. The staring man was still staring at me, so my mother told me to stare back. A group of people walked in behind a man in a wheeled chair.
People are walking in and out of the CT scan room like it’s their own living room.
The old man’s wheeled chair screeches so badly. I wonder if he’s deaf, because otherwise I really pity him. Apparently, the second wheeled chair guy has his whole right side paralyzed. I know people’s miseries are not supposed to be entertaining, and I am not being “entertained” here. It’s just that I like to observe everything, and illnesses have always been quite interesting to me. Leave me in a hospital for a whole week and I could write you a book!
The ceiling was so dirty and I wanted to take a picture for documentation’s sake. I refrained, however, in fear of being mistaken for a psycho who was taking random pictures of people around the place. The poor paralyzed man was surrounded by a bunch of idiots.
The paralyzed man was taken into the CT scan room, and about 4 or 5 people went along with him. They were taken out, of course, when the machine started working.
The staring guy moved to the right corner of the room. He was quite creepy, and I decided to stare back at him and act creepy too.
They called my name, and I went into the CT scan room. I had to take my earrings off, of course, as well as my glasses. I went into the machine all the way to my shoulders, and even though I had no glasses on I could still see the shapes of the lights very well, and that awesome spinning part. The engineer in me wondered about the bearings inside the epic machine. I really wanted to go in fully to test my claustrophobia or lack thereof.
I want my report!
Got my report! Time to go back to the first clinic.
A bunch of new people were in the first clinic. Mum made me use some sticky hand sanitizer. We had to wait because the doctor was in an operation.
“. . . in small engines, all cylinders are found in one cylinder block. . .”
I tried with my cellphone, and found free Wi-Fi with excellent signal.
I read through the cellphone some news that say Metallica is splitting up. More likely to be a lame April Fools’ joke.
The seats are so uncomfortable. I’m not sure if they are made of Aluminum or something else, but they are quite painful for the human back.
A wild otolaryngologist appeared!
Done with medical stuff and back into the car. I am to follow the new medication for 10 days, then I’ll be back to the clinic to continue my adventures.