What Do YOU Do While You Wait?

I just spent the past four weeks waiting for another CA-125 test to be completed.  Thursday, the phone rang – the number was another “bump in the road.”  It’s okay - we’ll deal with this one as well.  But it got me thinking about how much waiting I’ve done in my lifetime.  I swear it’s been more than half my life -- waiting for a teenager to get home -- waiting on line in the supermarket -- waiting to see a doctor -- waiting for the phone to ring -- waiting for critical test results.  I’ve been marooned in so many waiting rooms in so many medical facilities, I feel I’ve become a connoisseur of medical environments.  Some facilities and personnel tend to forget that our time is just as valuable as theirs.  I’ve spent so much time in one doctor’s waiting room that I swear his motto must be “Time heals everything.”

So, what do you do?? 

I’m sure you’ve noticed the increase in TVs in medical offices.  The channel that’s on will give you an immediate clue as to what type of doctor inhabits this office.  If Dora is Exploring, he’s a pediatrician; if C-SPAN is on, he specializes in some part of the male anatomy; if it’s the View, the patients are female; and if HBO is on, he/she has no concept of the word punctual and his staff is most likely six months behind in their insurance submissions. (But they’re great at movie trivia!)

A cardiologist I went to ONCE actually did show HBO movies in his waiting room.  Seriously!!!  After watching an Eddie Murphy movie for 45 minutes, I was shown to an examining room where I was asked to undress and wait for another thirty-seven minutes, in a freezing cubicle, in a drafty gown, without HBO!

The décor of the waiting room always interests me.  Flowers and trees are supposed to be calming to patients, or so I’m told.  I also think they’re a good indication of the doctor’s financial health (does he have Dracaena Marinates and Pygmy Palms? or lowly geraniums??) and of his medical competence (have aphids taken up residence or is everything wax and covered in dust?)

Diplomas can be interesting reading while you wait – Undergraduate, Medical School, Fellowships, Board Certifications – as fascinating as these may be, I would prefer to see his/her GPAs.  Some doctors are getting a little carried away with this framed reading material.  I swear I once saw an award for excellence in Hall Monitoring in Junior High.  Granted, I think it was hung in the hallway, outside the restroom – but still!

Pamphlets and leaflets must serve some purpose in doctor’s offices.  Maybe the physician or a nurse might give a specific pamphlet to a certain patient because of a particular condition.  That’s understandable, but some offices really go overboard.  An oncologist I went to many years ago was a wonderful doctor and such a happy, cheerful person.  His waiting room, on the other hand, could depress Robin Williams.  It was filled with rack after rack of pamphlets detailing the symptoms and warning signs of every sub classification of cancer known to modern science.  After a period of waiting in that room, most patients are convinced that if they didn’t have it when they came in, they will by the time they leave. 

A Vero Beach reconstructive surgeon whom I know has stacks of pamphlets neatly arranged on a seventy-five-year-old pie-crust table.  These pamphlets cover every type of plastic surgery from face lifts to tummy tucks to hammertoe correction.  I always spent my time making a mental “wish list” while I waited there.   

Psychologically, aquariums can be very calming but only when properly maintained.  There’s nothing calming about a dead fish floating in a glass coffin.  The management of a local Florida hospital learned this the hard way when a young child, whose mother had been injured in an accident, began screaming uncontrollably.  He had witnessed a dead angelfish being eaten by one of its tank mates.  My current chemotherapy treatment center has a huge aquarium – the cleanest and prettiest I’ve ever seen.  I have never even seen one of those fish poop!  There is something surreal about the cleanliness and bright colors of the fish – but it’s gorgeous as well as distracting!

Seating arrangements are often very telling.  If you see thirty-five chairs in a single practitioner’s waiting room, I’d go home and get my pillow and a very long novel.  Why would one doctor feel the need to supply seating for a full day’s patients at one time?

My favorite seating arrangement is what I call “airport terminal style.”  This design is popular in large group practices where many doctors share one communal waiting room.  There are no magazines, TVs, or pamphlets – just good, old-fashioned people-watching.  It’s enjoyable as well as cost effective.  The time passes so quickly that most patients don’t mind the wait.  Of course, this method does have its drawbacks.  Since it’s often impossible to hear your name being called in this huge amphitheater, quite a few appointments are missed.  This is not the recommended arrangement for seriously ill patients. 

Medical journals have said that many doctors are becoming acutely aware of patients who grow anxious, stressed out, and irritated by being kept waiting.  From my experience, I think it’s more likely a few doctors who are mildly aware of their patients’ acute irritation and stressful anxiety. 

Doctors should take their lead from my local home-town dentist.  His office is decorated with colonial couches, afghans, country wall hangings, and TVs in each treatment room showing slideshows of magnificent flowers and birds.  His receptionist does not isolate herself behind frosted-glass panels, and she not only knows the rules for realistic scheduling – she actually adheres to them.    

There is a term used in Emergency Rooms – LWBS.  It’s usually seen scrawled across a patient’s chart.  It stands for Left Without Being Seen.  It means that someone thought a three hour wait was a bit much, and, besides, they had found the missing finger and the bleeding had stopped by then.  I’ve left a doctor’s office once or twice because I refused to wait any longer.  I wonder what was scrawled on my chart. 

According to the principles of medical ethics set forth by the American Medical Association, physicians are expected to serve humans with full respect for their dignity and gain the confidence of their patients.  Waiting for hours in a freezing room with a torn copy of Soap Opera Digest and three decapitated Barbie Dolls, while four nurses (and most probably the doctor) giggle behind their frosted barricade does not bolster my confidence nor does it foster my dignity. 

Now this is a test – pay close attention!!!

The next time you enter a doctor’s waiting room, examine your surroundings.  How are the chairs arranged – perimeter fashion? Back-to-back? Possibly airport-terminal style?  Is anything living in this office – plants? trees? fish? mold?  Are there any diplomas on the walls? What type of magazines are lying around? Is there a TV in the room?  What’s on?

This simple exercise should accomplish two very important things:

1. Attentive, enlightened patients become discriminating, selective consumers.  Doctors will no longer  be able to stick us in a freezing cubicle with a gown the size of a postage stamp and an old, dog-eared, germ covered magazine, and expect us to wait patiently and quietly.

2.   And, last but not least, I’m hoping that you will become so engrossed in this assignment that you’ll forget to worry – which is really what we ALL do while we wait!

SURVIVAL TIP FOR TODAY:  While you’re waiting, try not to let worry absorb you.  The vast majority of things we worry about NEVER happen!