Monday, January 05, 2009 Dacawi: The Sicko By Ramon Dacawi Benchwarmer
(WITHOUT his permission, my son fills up this space with a piece from his musashiboogieweblog as I'm still on hangover mode remembering Christmases past.)
Patience - The capacity of enduring hardship or inconvenience without complaint.
"Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish." John Quincy Adams
It was a bit cold when I drove out to visit my doctor for the first time. I still had this damn headache and my body felt like it was ran over by a truck. At least my nose wasn't running anymore.
Probably it was the fresh air of that morning that, strangely enough, I wasn't barking out at the pedestrians and other vehicles passing by. Last night was the worst. I had been coughing so loudly afraid I'd wake up our neighbor's chickens.
When I got to the clinic, I parked my rundown bike with a kiddie chair at the back on the side wall of the building. The right handle bar, with a "rubber grip", supported the bike as it leaned steadily on the wall.
Behind is where the entrance and there were already people waiting. A hefty elderly lady was guarding the door and it meant she came first. I couldn't guess who's next but from my body count I'd be seventh. It's 8:20 a.m., at 9:00 the clinic would open.
The doctor was six minutes late and when she came, boy, was she pissed! She angrily told everyone we could not park the bicycles next to the walls. Because the handle bars will scratch and ruin the paint of the walls. I stared at the lady who owned the other bike behind mine. She didn't move to roll out her bike until the doctor got inside the building. I did the same and this little old lady gave me my first smile of the day.
All the eight chairs in the waiting room were taken. So I took the only corner that wasn't occupied and stood there. The pain in my head doubled as I closed my eyes and mentally counted the sick people in the room. I guessed sixteen. I was right, excluding the drug pusher and the two helpers. And more were coming in.
An hour and a half had passed and my back was killing me. Two more before my turn and I couldn't take it no more.
Karate taught me to endure and get through a difficult training or an exam without complaint. When you're tired you don't show it and when you're hurt just breathe in and out then fake it. I tried this at the clinic. It didn't work.
All of a sudden, I realized something. Holy cow! I've kept my mouth shut the whole time! I didn't chat or talk with anyone. I've read somewhere that the leading cause of bad breath is a mouth closed for a long time. I tried to cough but the phlegm in my lungs reverberated so loudly I saw someone cringe. Bad idea.
I was trying to forget about it when I noticed that both lanes of chairs, four on each, have a long piece of wood at the back of the legs. The purpose for this is to stop the back rest from touching the walls. Man...! the doc really has something going on with walls.
Then it started to come on down all together on me. My flu, my head, bad breath, long wait, all the sick people and the walls drove me to lose my grip on self control.
Suddenly I walked up to the office door and broke it down with a push kick. The door went flying away and hit the old man who was being diagnosed. The doctor, frightened to death, said "Okay young man you are next now; just don't scratch or destroy the walls. Please!"
I felt cold and my chest trembled. Thank God it was only my fever kicking in again. I hallucinated the whole thing about the door.
Another patient came and when he saw everyone there he quickly left. The little old lady who gave me my smile and laughed out, "Ha ha ha he got scared... took off ha ha ha!" All of them laughed, I didn't.
But when I caught a glimpse of the little lady's face, I giggled. My stifled laugh gave way to a whooping cough that took forever to stop. Everyone flinched. Nevertheless, the expression on her face was of pure joy.
The doctor told me I have bronchitis. When everything was done and I was ready to leave, she apologized for the long wait and said she started her day here badly. (Ahh, yes, the walls.)
I pedaled to the pharmacy, glad it was all over. But quickly, my heart sank. I was the youngest patient this day and I nearly broke down during the wait. I thought of the rest I left behind at the clinic -- almost all were senior citizens. The pain I felt hindered a tear that was about to fall. I moved on and tried to forget.
As I entered the drug store, I pulled out a ticket, number 74, and then the pharmacist yelled, "Number 62, please!"
