Divine Intervention, Part II

[me] Today I brought a letter from my friendly new doctor back into the Dockinnabocks clinic to prove that I should be authorized for my new job, as my hypertension, while not yet under control, is being treated. Today the Dockinnabocks lobby was aurally dominated by the television, alternating between cooking demonstrations, selling spices, and Dr. Oz spots, all at top volume and impossible to tune out.

I was motivated to tune out the television, because I was again on trial to lower my blood pressure. Bringing in my letter was not sufficient; the doctor here wanted to measure my blood pressure for herself to prove that it was under control. I waited for the other patients ahead of me to be seen and sat meditating on prayers and regulating my breathing, trying to lower my blood pressure and feeling very unsuccessful. The time was approximately 11 AM.

About 11:15 I was called back into Examination Room # 1, where the MA inquired if I was here for a DOT examination. I summarized how I had failed the physical examination for work, and that I was under a doctor's care for hypertension, and that this MD wished to check my blood pressure. The MA checked my blood pressure, which I could immediately feel rise due to the anxiety of having it checked. "I can't hear it. I have to have someone else try." This MA left the room.

In about five or ten minutes, another MA entered the room, looked at my chart, and asked if I was here for a DOT examination, and, keeping my voice nice and calm, I quietly gave her the same explanation of why I was there. She took my blood pressure, which I could feel rise, due to the anxiety of having it taken. She looked at me. "It's 150/104." My heart sank. In the Friendly office an hour before it had been 150/86--not stellar, but not outrageous. Here we go. I was informed that the doctor would wish to come in to talk to me, and to wait right here. By this time it was about 11:45 AM.

I remained on the examination table, legs dangling, as I felt that it would be counter-productive to sit in the chair and then leap back to the exam table as soon as the doctor came in. I had failed to have my case switched to a friendlier doctor, and was determined to stay calm and civil no matter what happened. I said prayers and regulated my breathing and stared at the poster on the wall, the only legible reading material, advocating shingles vaccination. I slipped my shoes off and crossed my legs on the table, regulating my breathing.

I leaned back against the wall. I reflected on the irony of being able to raise my blood pressure at any time, but being unable to lower it by either breathing, or meditating, or thinking pleasant thoughts, or by imagining that I could lower it. I dangled my legs again. I wondered what would happen if I decided to just lay down with my head on the pillow. I crossed my legs. I scooched back so my back was supported.

 It was 12:00 noon. I began to listen to the conversations out in the hall. "Where is the person in Room 2?" "Isn't she there?" "No, she's gone." "Is she really gone?" "I think she left because of the long wait time." "Did she really leave?" "We need to be able to use the room for someone else." "She left because of the long wait time." "Can we call her?" "Make the room ready for the next person." No mention of the person waiting in Room # 1.

At 12:15 the door opened. "What are you waiting for?" I explained that she [this very person] had instructed me to wait for the doctor. She backed out and there was a brief hallway conversation. Popped back in. "The doctor took care of that immediately, as soon as you came in. You can go." I found my own way back to the lobby, picked up a photocopy of my original referral paper from work, and went out to my car to phone my work.

Free. And feeling as if I had just concluded my part in a Chekov play.