It must be the mood I’m in, that I need to devote two blogs in a row to my annual physical. Or maybe it’s the book I’m reading that suggests writers need to find inspiration everywhere and be sensitive to details. I’m there.
Yesterday’s blog gave kudos to my doctor for having a less-than-glamorous waiting room. The examining rooms are a different story.
I was ushered into an examining room that seemed less sterile than my experience over the years. Instead of a table where the patient reclines, there was a chair. Yes, it reclined for various exams, but at least my doctor wasn’t looming over me as we talked. Instead he performed his study and then arranged the chair so that we were eye-to-eye.
In addition, current technology was everywhere. The nurse didn’t take my temperature with an old-fashioned oral thermometer. Rather, she stuck some strange instrument in my ear to learn my vitals. The blood pressure machine she used looked more like a picnic basket with a cuff that was attached to my arm for analysis. Even the unmentionable PAP exam was conducted with less drama than ever before. Finally, when all was said and done, my doctor didn’t make notes on a chart; he keyboarded them into his computer.
The only thing I didn’t like about all this was the examining room’s dйcor. Thomas Kinkade, who bills himself as the “painter of light,” has allowed his oils to be turned into wallpaper. And there in the examining room, I saw the results. I never liked Kinkade’s work, but I dislike it even more because it seems he’s pandered to commercialism instead of staying true to the artist’s bent.
However, I don’t fault my doctor for any of this, even if I question his taste in interior design.
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