I Hate Waiting Rooms

I’m sitting patiently in the hospital waiting room. When they called me on the phone to tell me about my pre-op date, they should have just called and said “Hello, you can come in January 23rd at 8:30 am to get poked all morning”. So far I have seen two out of the four doctors that I need to see this morning. I’m patiently waiting for this morning to be over, so I can go up to the Bariatric Surgery floor to pick up my shakes already. I’ve been getting myself so worked up about this liquid diet, I just want to drink it all and get it over with.

So I’m sitting in this waiting room. It’s hard not to stare and to imagine what people are here for. There’s another fellow large pleasantly plump girl sitting next to me, I know what she’s here for. The man sitting next to me picking the infectious scabs in his arm could be here to amputate it. There’s a man next to me complaining that it’s taking too long. He’s just here for support for his wife that’s getting her gall bladder removed. (I was listening to their conversation. I’m here alone and no friends to talk to). I wonder if people know why I’m here. I wore a sweater cape, so I lost twenty pounds from the side.

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