April 6, 2024:
Hip length white hair, very straight, slumped in her waiting room chair. Man in '60s suede fringe, very loud, calls out to her carefully: "I'll. Meet. You. In. The. Pharmacy." She nods, still slumped, unspeaking.
Phones. Every one of us. Some patients are scrolling, some playing games, some like me typing, likely for entirely different reasons. Everyone has a screen for company.
I am anxious. As always in medical offices: "white collar systolic". More so today. It's my first visit to an unknown physician in an unfamiliar campus. It was stressful just getting here on time.