Some people

Had an ungodly hour appoinment at a hip clinic this morning. Why is there always someone in every waiting room who thinks we are all dying to know that she drove seven hours from Elk Lake or somewhere in blinding snow to get there, that she had had an earlier appointment in November, but her uncle had died and so she had to cancel, that she worked in the oil patch, that she had really sore hips (don't we all), that she was really lucky her sister lived here (poor sister) and that she thinks her problem is hereditary. Man, I'd hate to meet her parents! And as if that weren't enough for 7 a.m., we were mercilessly treated to her machine buzzing every two seconds because she was texting someone -- probably telling them that she drove seven hours from Elk Lake in a blinding snow storm, that her uncle had died, that she worked in the oil patch........you get it. Instead of sitting there quietly like the rest of us, she had to parade around yakking and raving. I mean, come on!

You get an idea of what the problems are when you see some people really waddling in! They were lumbering and thundering and gasping for breath and I thought, "Do you think your weight has anything to do with the pressure on your hips and knees!!" I am sure they would totally deny it. I mean, come on!

Mercifully I was called for x-rays and then into another waiting room to wait. The wait was sufficiently long that I now know everything there is to know about the "Male Reproductive and Urinary Tract Anatomy" from a 45-minute look a graphic poster on the wall. Yep, I am now an expert on the vans deferens, the urethra and every other aspect of these cellular structures...view from the front and view from the side. I mean, there was nothing else to read. In bounced the adolescent doctor, who blithely ignored what I said about my symptons, pronounced on my condition and bounced out five minutes later. After eight years, I got a five-minute moment. So my hip saga continues......outcome unknown.