Our waiting room wasn’t anything special, but it had the basics for a family practice office: upholstered chairs, some with arm rests, in groupings; smaller chairs and toys for the kids—the wires with colored beads were most popular; assorted handouts and magazines, some fairly recent; some plants and seasonal decorations—wreaths, a Christmas tree. Maybe 30 people could fit in, but it wasn’t usually that crowded unless there were a walk-in clinic evening, when all bets were off. There was surely some apprehension people felt while waiting for medical care, but people often chatted with the front desk or each other and in a small town, it wasn’t unusual to run into someone you knew.
There was surely some apprehension people felt while waiting for medical care, but people often chatted with the front desk or each other and in a small town, it wasn’t unusual to run into someone you knew.
On March 18, 2020, everything changed. The doors were closed and you had to call the desk to be screened. Acute respiratory illnesses were triaged to a local clinic set up specifically for COVID assessment, and non-essential appointments were cancelled. Most visits became virtual, and people would be in the zoom “waiting room” until the physician opened the program. Those who made it into an in-person visit found they were admitted one by one, masked and sanitized, then led back immediately to an exam room, which would have been stripped to essentials and thoroughly wiped down. The upholstered chairs were replaced by washable plastic-covered seating, and only a few of them. Magazines, toys, posters, plants, decorations all gone. The waiting room camaraderie disappeared. It was an uncomfortable time for everyone.
Four years later, the waiting room is still a shadow of its former self and many visits continue to be virtual. Although universal masking and closed doors have abated, COVID hasn’t gone away. Heightened precautions persist, at least for now. We don’t know how or when the next wave of another contagious disease will come, just that it will. In the meantime, we all wait.
Khati Hendry
Four years in and masks may return soon (they certainly have remained in place at dentists and for my facial lady – anyone who works close to my face). What you describe is familiar to all of us, Khati, for we have all lived through these pandemic years, but you are (or were) a practicing physician, so can tell us what it was like from that point of view and we were only the ones sitting in the waiting room.
I confess, I still like the flexibility of having a Zoom meeting with some of my doctors, if I don’t need to be seen in person. It saves time and gas. But other than that, the landscape has changed forever, as COVID continues to evolve and re-emerge.
Yes, it is good we now have virtual options in addition to in-person visits, but they are definitely not a replacement. Just as virtual relationships anywhere are not the same as flesh and blood.
Thanx Khati for what I fear is your prescient story. Let’s hope for better outcomes when the next one hits – and better national leadership..
Public health people see the big picture, but demands of today often interfere with prevention. Same with taking action on the climate. Just have to keep up the good work as best we can.
Yes, and I know you were one who gave your all!
well said Khati! Yes, I think you’ve nailed a latent anxiety about when the next disaster will befall us- something we didn’t comprehend nor expect back in the good old days.
I suppose the people who experienced the 1918 flu pandemic thought we wouldn’t forget, or polio, or HIV, or Ebola and so on. People have a fabulous ability to live in denial until we can’t—but it does help with anxiety. Finding a wise balance is always a goal.
This is so sad, Khati. The pre-COVID waiting room sounded ideal.
Yes, it is sad. I also yearn for the days we could travel by air without it being an ordeal. Ah, those are the memories that make us think they were the good old days.