Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Waiting Room Poetry
I spend a lot of time in waiting rooms; anyone with chronic illness does. They are ill-lit as a general rule, plant-less, postered with cheap posters of eagles and shit, and populated by mean nurses, as you would expect in Broadway musical.
I try to find tidbits into which I can sink my teeth. For example, one waiting room had a live plant. That was pretty fabulous. A peace lily. Another had interesting carpet. I think it was wool. That says something, wool carpet in a waiting room, instead of the usual flammable Astrotuf-ish polyester in geometric pattern of grey on duller grey.
The "Insult The Suffering Patient" cake was taken yesterday at physical therapy, an applied heating pad that I could have done at home for free. Next time, I will. Anyway, there was a stool in the treatment room (see above.) So bitchy. So obnoxious. So this stool is not for you. .. I put my wallet on it. Take that, medical establishment.