Waiting …

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I had an appointment to see my dermatologist bright and early this morning.  Her office is maybe five minutes — round trip, mind you — from my parents’ house, and she is a very lovely and wonderful doctor who never keeps me longer than ten minutes during the appointment.  Needless to say, the dermatologist is my absolute favorite doctor to visit.

Her office was behind a couple minutes this morning, so I sat very patiently in the waiting room of her office, shared with two other dermatologists.  There was a fairly young teenage girl there with her mother, a few women in their early thirties, a girl about my age, and a young man probably not too much older than I am.  The mom was filling out the paperwork for her daughter, and she turned to her daughter when she was finished and said, “I wasn’t sure what to put for occupation.  I just put kid.”  Then, giving a pointed look to her obviously aggrieved daughter, “Maybe mother torturer.”  Also, the teenage daughter tried to scam out of school for the entire day for her visit to the dermatologist.  Her mother asked her if she was going to help clean the whole house, to which the teenage girl huffily responded, “I guess I’ll just go to school.”

Also, I accidentally tried to steal the sole male in the waiting room’s appointment.  My last name can also be a boys’ first name, so because the doctors were running behind, I automatically assumed it had to be me.  I went to the back, and the nurse gave me kind of a funny look.  I didn’t pay any attention to it, and she was like, “Okay, what are we here for today?”  After telling her it was just a check up, she goes, “Um, are you so-and-so?”  I was like, “OH!  No, I’m not,” so I went back into the waiting room and the nurse called the young man back.  As he passed, he was like, “We have the same name,” and I just kind of nodded.

The funny thing is, I wasn’t even embarrassed.  It was a little awkward, but the three or so years I have spent in college (on top of the four I spent in high school) have really eliminated all semblance of embarrassment in my life.  Shamelessness comes easily when you live in a place where people are judged completely differently than elsewhere.

And this is random, but it occurred to me today that the dermatologist is maybe the last doctor’s office where you would want to meet someone.  If it’s not something overwhelmingly apparent — acne, for example — you just never know why he or she is there, and I’m guessing no one wants to date someone with some bizarre dermatological condition that is concealed.  Ahem.

Also, I have been doing absolutely nothing over break, and I love it!  I have made lots of different collages (It’s very calming.) and have a passport application that is ready to be turned in ASAP.  The passport thing?  Totally the only thing I have to do that is even remotely important.  Love it.

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