The real wait began at 2 p.m., when the leukaemia outpatients would file into the waiting room. There seemed to be little reason behind the order of consultations decided upon, and this became a regular topic of conversation.
Was it those who had their blood tested earliest, those requiring the most radical treatment, or those who were to receive bad news? We knew that the panel of medical experts, chaired by Dr Whiteside, had discussed the progress of all of us at their weekly meeting before the clinic. But time and time again, theories were disproved. One day you could have your blood tested early, check into the clinic at 2 p.m., and have to wait until 6 p.m. or thereabouts, to see the doctor. This can be quite frustrating when the meeting often consisted of something like the following.
"How are you feeling, Wayne?"
"Really well, thanks Doc."
"You're going well, your counts are up nicely."
"Good."
"Hop up on the table, I'll give you a quick examination and then you can go."
Five minutes later, Mum and I would make our way to the pharmacy, then the car. It was often parked a long way away and ahead was a battle through peak hour traffic. The journey home could take forty-five minutes. But deep down, I was happy that I didn't receive injections of the toxic fluids, and that my progress was satisfactory.
On another day, you could be called for the consultation at 2.15 p.m., and be home by 3 p.m. Then there would be chuckles, and witty comments arising from fellow patients lining the path to the examination rooms. There may have been some reason to the order, but I never discovered it. Even in the midst of a personal battle for life, my friends in illness found doctors and their ways amusing.
faffajane
Pro 
Hugs x