I've spent more than my share of hours in waiting rooms. In my 20s and 30s, it was the kids. In my 40s and 50s, it was my parents. From there on out, it was for Mrs. G. and me. The longer I hang around, the more acquainted I get with the process. Several years ago, I began jotting down my waiting room observations to pass the time. I wanted to share a few of them with you. Many of these have a little age on them, but they do stand the test of time. You might even be reading these while waiting for your name to be called. They are bullet-pointed for clarity and in no particular order. 

• In the seat across the lobby, meticulous man sits upright and soldier ready, waiting for the call to come. "Mr. Jackson, the doctor will see you now." His paperwork neatly packaged, alphabetically, chronologically, by size and importance. 

• Two seats north and at right angles are mother and daughter. Two-for-one perms of curly gray and grayer yet, sit quietly clutching suitcase-size pocketbooks filled with Kleenex and pill bottles. Small talk of, Did you hear about? Did you see the news? go on and on.

• One man enters the lobby and heads directly to the complimentary coffee center. He has this down pat. He must be a regular.

• Two men, obviously old friends, who have me beat by at least a decade, sit and compare notes. It goes like this for at least twenty minutes:

Vince- "Hey, how ya doin'? I haven't seen you in a while. Do you still live on such-and-such Street?

Dominick- "Yup, still there. The house needs some work, but I need a lot more."

And so the repertoire continued its ping pong of short questions and shorter answers. There was an occasional dig about our President and our governor.

The conversation was familiar and predictable. I'm sure the weather forecast also found its way in there. I smiled on the inside and suddenly missed my father and his nightly news commentary. Commentary that I'm proud to say skipped at least one generation. Generally, I support the President and governor, whomever they might be.

• I'm back in Albany for a routine eye exam. It's a quiet office with more canes and walkers than fish in the fish tank. Comfortable shoes abound. Squeaky voices and grey-haired adult children ease the concerns of their shaking parents with mouth-to-ear whispers. This phenomenon circles the room like a wave. My eyelids gain five pounds within minutes. My head bobs like a Cape Cod buoy. The next words I hear are, "Mr. Greenwood?"

• Another yearly eye exam. It's quieter than usual today. The waiting room has one well-behaved senior who appears to be waiting for another senior who may be filed away in one of the remote examination rooms.

• These visits are lighter and more entertaining than the ones I experienced with Dad when I was his medical transport technician. Those events were stressful and always seemed to come when I was overtired. I've become adept at waiting room survival techniques. I find simple ways to self-entertain. My biggest challenge is not dozing off. Mrs G. finds it disturbing when she returns from her exam to find me asleep, with my head tilted back like a Popeye Pez Dispenser, drooling on my shirt, and snoring like a black lab next to a warm stove. I smile at her disapproval as she grabs my hand and whisks me off to the parking lot. 

These observations are 99% accurate and are meant to take the edge off those ever-increasing waits we seem to dread so much.

Be well. May your test results be negative and your copays be waived.

For ALL of John’s Doctor's Office Observations, check out SimplySaratoga.com