The Art of Visiting the Doctor

As the waiting room gradually emptied out after 2 hours, I had convinced myself that someone was conspiring against me. My name had been taken off the list. The receptionists were sitting behind their little frosted window laughing at me. I wasn't going to be seeing a doctor. I grabbed my hot-tea and started towards the exit ... with one hand on the door and one holding my throat-soothing-hot-tea, a nurse popped out from the back, said my name, grabbed me by my elbow, and quickly escorted me to my exam room: "Wait here for the Doctor". Forty-five minutes later as I sat alone in this tiny room, the conspiracy theory had resurfaced in my mind. Tea gone, I now had to use the WC ... urgently. However, I was convinced that they were watching me on closed circuit TV and that the second I left Exam Room 8 that they would send in the good Doctor who would of course think, "Oh, this room is empty, I'll just move on to my next patient". Luckily, I was able to sneak down the hallway to the WC quietly (think 007 style) and back before I was noticed. I must have passed the test, because no sooner had I returned to Exam Room 8 than the doorknob began to turn.

As I stood on the sidewalk outside the Doctor's office a few minutes later, I realized I had learned three important lessons:
1. The whole world is conspiring (quite successfully) against me
2. Doctor's offices without magazines in the waiting room are EVIL
3. If you forget to pay for your visit upon leaving, the receptionist will, indeed, chase you down the sidewalk and make you write her a check right then and there.