My doctor's office is not unlike Ikea.

So, if you read my running blog anjasmith.blountblogs.com you will notice a new post that is called A long six weeks. It is about how I am a dumb ass and have horribly healed stress fractures that are making my life miserable. Except that is my 'professional' blog so I have to be more diplomatic than that. Anyway, the real story here lies in the doctor and office whom I went to see. Oh man, there is so much to say ...

1. His name is Dr. Scott. (Dr. Scott!) If you don't get why this is funny, we might need to rethink our friendship. (Rocky Horror Picture Show) (Also, I don't mean that about our friendship. Cris didn't get it, so I don't think I can justify not being your friend for that. If only this were a perfect world.)

2. I walk in this ginormous building that is so over the top Swedish design fad with frosted walls that don't serve a purpose and cherry wood with no grain because it isn't real and random curves on surfaces and everything else is a straight line ... it was stupid.

3. There are actual ques for each of the fifty doctors (that is an exaggeration, but it is a lot, like 12 maybe.). Almost like an airport check in. True story: I didn't know which doctor was mine. They were SUPER upset about it. Like I had ruined their impenetrable system of efficiency with my single question. Too bad they don't have an information kiosk. Or a Starbucks.

4. Then they call my name. And four other people. And they herd us. Literally. No one at this point had been friendly. So they herd us past the airport hanger full of appointment setters and the long hallway of chairs for this service, or that service and there are all these "hubs". Dude. It was so weird. After trekking past a mountain goat and several Sherpas, I get to my room.

5. The nurse is the only one that gets brownie points because she called me "buff". Note: I am not buff. I am also at a sports medicine doctor. Aren't like, 90% of his patients athletes?

6. They then herd me to one of the "service centers" where I get my x-rays. The lady is the first to say my name correctly and then tells me she is going to have to take six pictures of my legs because they are so long. Why are these people treating me like a freak? I am at a sports medicine doctor! Tall and buff should be normal! After, I am told to wait outside the room to be herded back to my other room because surely I am too stupid to make the three turns to get back to that room. Actually, good point. Where is my Sherpa? I could get lost.

7. Then, Dr. Scott! comes in (btw, at first I thought my doctor was this very tiny rude man who upon looking back kind of reminds me of a munchkin at the gates of Oz. This whole experience is very Ozian.) Anyway, the real Dr. Scott! is a caricature. If only I had been any one of my single lady friends who is hoping to land a good looking doctor because he is very aware of what a good catch he is and probably would have told you. He lays the charm on super thick and he was all super tall and good looking with bright blue eyes, a three thousand dollar suit and a class ring bigger than my fist. Seriously, it was like a joke. I think he was sad that his voodoo wasn't effecting me. Apparently he is used to having to literally catch the ladies as they swoon.

8. Blah blah blah, stop running, come look at your crazy shin on the x-ray! Look, it bends the wrong way! You can't run! Come back in six weeks and we will figure out a game plan. Oh Dr. Scott! how I hate you for the news you give me.

9. I am then herded to the "payment center" and given detailed instructions on how to exit the building. The entire thing, x-rays included took under and hour. The waiting room could hold like 300 people. This place was bigger than a hospital. And more stylish. It kind of disgusted me.

Also, all of this happened before I had coffee. I really wish there had been a Starbucks ...

P.S. Sorry this post was so long. I realize you have things to do with your lives. Promise :D