Patience, patient!

Like most other complex physical and social skills, the ability to wait improves with practice. I have never been known for my patience, but thanks to all the time I've spent in various medical waiting rooms over the past few months, I've developed a Zen-like ability to sit and wait.

Standing and waiting, however, is another matter entirely, as I learned yesterday afternoon at the cancer center.

I had finished with a longer-than-expected doctor visit followed by radiation, and all I had to do before I could go home was to meet with the scheduler to set up my next round of chemotherapy. Now the scheduler is a charming and helpful young man who sits behind a counter in a little cubby-hole behind a glass door, but there's no chair available on the patient's side of the counter. Anyone needing to see the scheduler has to stand and wait, which was tough for me yesterday because a particularly annoying side effect had limited me to about two hours of sleep the night before. But there was only one person ahead of me when I walked in, so how long could it possibly take?

Too long.

One glance at the person ahead of me revealed that I was dealing with a textbook example of the genus Drug Sales Representative: spiffy Italian leather shoes, well-cut suit probably worth my monthly mortgage payment, wheeled sample kit, and an ample measure of the gift of gab. He was trying to set up a lunch meeting with doctors and a separate meeting with nurses and he wanted some contact information for the people who could make this happen.

The scheduler tracked down the information. I leaned against the counter.

The Sales Rep wanted to bring in lunch for the nurses one day, but if lunch wouldn't work, how about breakfast? Could he talk to the head nurse directly?

The scheduler paged the head nurse, only to be told that she was at the other office. I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes.

The Sales Rep had recently visited the other office and chattered a bit about people he had seen and what he had learned there.

The scheduler listened patiently. I considered curling up in a fetal position on the floor, but this would have placed me in close proximity to the Sales Rep's fine Italian leather shoes, which would have aroused envy, which is unhealthy. So I stood. Waiting. Patiently.

Finally the Sales Rep wrapped up his pitch, packed up his case, and rolled on out of there, making room for me to approach the scheduler and tell him what I needed. He put my name into the computer and got to work, but suddenly the Sales Rep barged back in and said, "I have a little something I want to drop off for the nurses."

The scheduler turned toward the Sales Rep and began issuing instructions.

"Tell you what," I said. "How about I'll go out to the waiting room and sit down and you can come and fetch me when you have some free time in your schedule?"

The Sales Rep shut up, the scheduler got back to work, and I was soon on my way out the door with a schedule in my hand. I don't want to know what they said about me after I left, but I doubt that they were applauding my Zen-like patience.

If they want to see that, all they have to do is offer me a chair.