I went to the doctor this morning, nothing serious, blood pressure check. I’m thirty nine and still healthy as a trout. It has to be the most boring experience on the planet to wait in the doctor’s office or doctor’s surgery as they call it in Ireland. I’m not sure why they call the office a surgery when no actual surgeries occur there. The paint a faded lilac has not been changed in the fifteen years I am attending that doctor. Damp on the corner of the walls by the door where the lilac paint is starting to paint. Faded fifteen year old paint (possibly older) only reminds me that there is little interest in the sick or making their waiting experience a comfortable one. It’s a small room, full of people: elderly waiting for the flu injection, new parents waiting to immunize their new child, adults hoping for a sick cert to get the day off work, cancer patients in for a routine check-up, me claustrophobic sitting up in the middle of it. The room chatters endlessly about the weather, politics, football, children’s accomplishments. Strangers hopelessly attack other strangers for mundane conversation. An elderly gentleman got me, friendly face, the lines of someone who has lived a good life and is proud of who he is. The sort of man that has a nice word to say about all of his neighbours and is proud of the family raised.
‘Shocking weather we’re having today,’ he said.
‘Indeed, it’s fire lighting weather,’ I said.
‘Ah yeah, you’d want a big fire going for the day that’s in it – are you from Rhode?’ he asked.
‘No, I’m from Arizona originally but I have been living in Rhode for 15 years,’ I replied.
’15 years, well welcome to Ireland,’ he said and grinned putting his hand out to shake.