Finding the Perfect Match at the Medical City

Waiting in line for a consult with a medical expert can be one awful patience test but as Sun Tzu once said, “Maneuver misfortune into gain.”

How, then, does one get something good out of waiting in line inside a hospital?

Being that it is February, the love month so to speak, and it is three days away from the great, red V-day, the answer to my self-raised question leans toward the convenient way of experiencing the commercialized essence of the season. Waiting in line can present an opportunity to meet one’s own perfect match especially for Valentine’s Day.

Doctors are all around. It makes bumping unto the perfect “doc” highly likely thereby igniting a possible personal version of Grey’s Anatomy. The situation makes it conducive to spot one’s own McDreamy or McSteamy.

Then there are the medical representatives who aren’t at all bad. They are presentable and are probably good conversationalists. They make good money, too, and chances are, they have cars, company cars, but cars nonetheless. (Materialistic, aren’t we? But I’m talking about turning misfortune into gain, remember? Gain can border on material things!)

Then there’s the possibility of meeting fellow patients with whom you can hit things off.

Patients like Arthur.

“What is your name?” He began with a tone which is not at all intimidating. He was actually genuinely friendly. I found no reason to withhold my real name.

“Have you been waiting long?” I asked him after we were passed introducing ourselves.

“A bit long,” he answered with a slight hint of uncertainty. Arthur didn’t seem to mind waiting for his doctor to see him. He then proceeded on asking me, “Are you sick?” He sounded rather sincere.

Now usually questions like “are you sick?” pulls down my defensive alarm switch which ultimately interpret such simple question as a masked attack on how I look. But I knew Arthur did not deserve any of my usual sardonic, defensive quips.

“Hopefully not,” I told him. “My ear hurts. I’m having it checked.” I was surprisingly pleasant to Arthur and his queries. “How about you?”

“Am I sick?” He tried to clarify.

“Are you?”

“Nah! I’m just here for a check-up.”

That’s good. At least the person I was talking to was healthier than I was.

The next 30 minutes of waiting for my turn to see my doctor have become less than a dull one, thanks to Arthur.

For a complete stranger, he sure does have a way about him that makes one feel comfortable with his presence. Not all guys are like Arthur: Outspoken yet not at all annoying. And if there’s someone I’ve met for the past week that’s been gifted with the most remarkable dose of wit and charm, it has got to be Arthur.

I have to admit that I like him already.

My chitchat with Arthur was cut-short by my doctor’s assistant calling me.

“The doctor will see you now,” she said.

As it turned out, Arthur’s time to see his doctor had come, too.

“It was nice meeting you, Arthur.” I said as cordially as I could.

“You, too.” He uttered with a wave and the sweetest smile that would most definitely win anyone over.

Arthur and I, we went our separate ways after that. Me to my EENT; him to his pediatrician, as led by his mom.

He’s quite a kid, you see. And impressively smart for someone who’s seven. I actually forgot I’m on a stake out for a potential McDreamy or McSteamy or McMedRep.

But that’s about it with Arthur. He would have been a perfect match if I were no older than ten years old. I mean, it’s not like I’m Michael Jackson, you know?