A doctor’s appointment, waiting patiently & anonymously in the waiting room

You arrive, just two minutes late, but late nonetheless.

Will they allow you your allotted time or have you missed your slot?

Out of breath and red faced, perspiring perhaps just a little,

“Can I help you?” they ask; my breath back would be nice, you think.

“I have an appointment at nine” *tap tap tap*

“Please take a seat in the waiting room.”

The ‘waiting room’ where you go to sit and patiently wait, wait to be called.

The ‘waiting room’ where the other patients sit patiently, waiting.

Do you look down when you go in or do you scan the room

To see who is there, who you may know?

But maybe you don’t want to see anyone you know because that means

You have to tell them, doesn’t it?

A nod and wave isn’t enough.

“What’s wrong with you then?” Or “the old problem eh?”

“Well no, actually, it’s a bit more serious…nothing to worry about…too embarrassing to tell…”

No, best to look down, avoid eye contact, find a spare chair,

Preferably away from everyone else, wouldn’t do to sit next to anyone.

Then pick up a magazine from the table, don’t rifle through them though,

That smacks of desperation – trying to find a magazine that interests you that is less than three months old.

You may read it, or pretend to, just flicking through the pages, make it look like you are occupied

Whilst waiting in the ‘waiting room’ patiently; wondering how much longer you will have to sit there

Even though you were two minutes late.

You sneak a look, make sure no one else is doing the same thing,

You don’t want to make eye contact after all.

A quick glance around gives you the all clear, you can relax,

No one need know you have had to go to the doctor.

You look back at the magazine, an article on the latest ‘must have’ gadgets,

You struggle with your iPhone.

A loud and clear voice shouts out your name, the whole room looks up to see

As you stand, casually plonk the magazine you haven’t read back on the low table, then

See the people you know, the ones who were sitting hidden in the corner of the ‘waiting room’,

The ones you know will ask you later

“So what’s wrong with you then?”


About Sophia Moseley

Freelance Copywriter, Feature Writer and Author. Looking for that illusive job that every working mother craves but surviving, just, on what I can find. My writing and poetry keeps my sane. Watch this space.
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