Sorry, babe,

I had planned to fill it for you, but after taking off early from work to make it to the local office before the Receptionist left, I arrived to…of course, that long-winded, absent-minded mannequin of a grandma, um, ah, didn’t have it, didn’t know about it,…”De Dooktour, hez weeth a payshent, nooow.”

The claustrophobic foyer is standing room only. I take a few chilling breaths before I speak - slowly and with concentrated lack of hesitation. “Receptionist, I spoke with you on the phone yesterday about this matter. I left work early today so that YOU would not have to stay past 6 o’clock waiting for me.”

She stares at me as if she just had her pupils dilated during an eye exam.

“I told you during our conversation that the Doctor had asked me to call you and let you know I would be coming and what I would be coming for.” By the end of this sentence I feel like I’m dangerously close to that speaking-to-a-foreigner-as-if-they-are-deaf syndrome.

She begins taking white paper out of the copy machine and replacing it with blue paper, at anti-warp speed. Once the blue paper is secured she turns to me, “Oh, de dooktour, he cool you? Weel, I don know bee-cuz hee deedn’t tell mee.”

At this point I just don’t want to talk to her anymore, but I must ask, “How long will it be?”

She freezes in the direction of the black hole hallway. Ten seconds pass. “I theenk,” she says wistfully, still transfixed in the direction, “a cawpule mee-noots.”

That is when I texted you.

Okay, I will spare you the rampage that was going on in my head during the “cawpule mee-noots” which became 5, then 10, then, before 15, I said to her, “Maybe you should just have the Doctor mail the prescription. The Doctor is also supposed to be sending a letter so he can have his treatment transferred to his school location.” (Of course, I am well aware that she will be unable to assimilate this information in any satisfactory manner, but my only vengeful respite at this point is to try and confuse her while I wait.)

She plops down in her chair and throws her hands up. “Weel, if thas wha-choo wan to doo…, but wood bee bet-ter eef he know wha choo wan-t.”

Oh, my f’ing god! What is her job?? Why is this waiting room full of people? How do they charge 300 dollars for an hour long visit?!

I want you to know, honey, that if it wasn’t for the possibility of alienating the Doctor to the point where it might be difficult for you to get what you need from him, I would have gone off when he finally appeared. I know that on another day, at another time, I could have handled it better (I think), but after the Receptionist said to me – just prior to the Doctor’s appearance – “If choo feel choo haf to blay-mah somma ONE, I don cay-er, blay-mah mee,” I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

So, here’s your script, babe. I over-nighted it (obviously), but let me know if you need money to get it filled.

I love you,

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