Ever get to the office and see all your patients swarming in the parking lot? You could compare it to driving through a cluster of paparazzi', but you would be wrong. It's more like driving through a cluster of zombies....
Slowly a look of recognition comes across their face as they follow the car with their eyes. They throw the half smoked cigarette onto the ground and start to walk towards the car as I pull in. By the time I have parked and reach for the door handle it is too late. Surrounded. I can hear them shouting that the script isn't at the pharmacy or they need a note for work because they are too sick to work on a friday. It's 65 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. They are all out today. I throw everything I can into my bag, clutch my keys for a weapon. I have a 10 ft walk to the back door from where I am parked. I check the time. 10 minutes until the front door opens and they will be let in. It's too late for me to have a migraine. Too late to call in a replacement. I have no choice. I step outside my car, keeping my head down I avoid eye contact. The sound of my name pierces my ears, they must be bleeding. I repeat my mantra "OK, I'll take care of it", like a Buddhist chant, as I slowly part the sea of junkies that blocks my path. As I reach the door, they begin to recede. They amble back toward the front of the building as I close the door behind me. ,Cigarettes are relit, gas station coffees are sipped. I have 8 minutes before they take over my day, whining, coughing, bleeding. 8 glorious minutes to say hello to my compadres who fight the battle with me. I make myself a coffee, I put on the white coat, I grab a stethoscope and a couple sani-cloths. When I reach my desk, I wiggle my mouse to wake up the computer I will not be sitting in front of today. I erase the voice mails because I know the people who left those messages are now out front, demanding to be my exam room. They are not in the schedule. They were a no call no show for their last 3 appointments. They have not fulfilled the requirements for their care plan. But they are entitled. I must see them. I must give them what they want. If I do not they will yell, they will cry, they will report me to the medical board.
One by one they filter in to my office a whirlwind blur of lies, apologies and urine.
My coffee is cold. I have new messages on my voicemail. The others will show up soon. The ones who are scheduled. The ones who respect boundaries, who are not entitled. The others. I'll just keep waiting for the others.
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