Waiting.

This is me every time. Each word accurately describes my experience. Wait over an hour to get 7 minutes with the Dr. I bring a whole bag with gum, water, book, ear buds, and let the receptionist know I have to drown out the noise because it’ll overload me else. I had to get over my fear of ridicule, I just don’t care about these people anymore. So I state up front what I need. Oddly, more often than not they will have someone walk out and get my attention. My regular Dr tries to get me in a room ASAP and I will just nap. 💖💖💖💖

“But I can hear other things. Babies crying. Children shouting. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights over my head. The ticking of a clock. Tick tock tick tock. Make it stop. I can’t see it though. Maybe it’s in the next room. People’s phones. People rummaging in their bags. People people people. Too many. All crammed into this tiny room with its animal life mural on the wall.”

autisticzebra

I check the reminder text one more time. 10.45, Paediatric Outpatients. I check the date. One time I wrote the date down wrong. And we arrived at the correct time, but a day late. I never want to repeat that.

So I collect her from school and we race to get to the appointment on time. If we’re just ten minutes late they’ll mark us as a DNA (Did Not Attend) and cancel it.

So I go up to the receptionist and give her my daughter’s name. “That’s my name too!” She says. Like she does every single time. Like her name tag says too. And I feign surprise. Like I do every single time.

Daughter gets weight and height measured and recorded and we take our seats in the Waiting Room.

Except there’s only one free seat. So she sits on my lap. And I’m wearing my big coat…

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