Torture appointment?

I had my appointment with the Social Security doctor this morning. The letter I received informing me of the place and date also said that I should expect 2-3 hours for the visit so I figured they would be doing x-rays, CT scans, MRI's and every thing else under the sun, even though I have already had them done.

I was shocked when that is not what happened. I got there at the proper time, signed in and was relieved to see that there was only 1 person in the waiting room. I got there as early as I could as I feared this would be one of those places where everyone is given the same appointment time and then you are taken in to see the doc in the order you arrived. I signed in and was taken right back for vitals and a history and then led to a room where they gave me a cheap paper gown and asked me to change.

When they gave me the gown I was convinced this was going to be a long morning and it might even include the finger wave, which is just not fun at all. After giving me the "gown" the nurse left the room and it was then that I realized, THERE WAS NOTHING TO READ in the room. I actual think I started to panic a bit because no magazines is a sure sign of a long assed wait.

Like usual, my magazine corollary, which clearly states that the wait time in any doctors office is inverse to the number of good magazines available, was proven true once again. I found out why the letter they sent told me to expect 2-3 hours, it was all in the exam room waiting to see the doctor.

I can only guess they have a camera or something to watch you while you are in there, writhing in pain and reading everything you can get your hands on, including the BMI chart, the prostate cancer handbook and the back of the soap bottle. After 10 minutes in the chair and being uncomfortable I moved to the little "exam bed" where I tried to lay down. However squeezing 6' of me on to 4' of bed was no small task and by now since I had proven my magazine corollary to be accurate once again, I tried to take a nap.

I awoke to the door opening and the doctor coming in and the torture began. I did not realize I was seeing an orthopedic doctor and he certainly seemed to think that I was more flexible then a newborn baby because he tried to move me in ways I did not even think one could move. I guess the look on my face and the blood curdling screams were not an indication of the pain to him, unless he thought he could get more out of me and I was just faking it. When he tired to get me to stand on my toes I told him that I could not the look on his face was priceless. When he realized I was not joking it changed back to one of bewilderment.

All in all it was actually a quick visit. After all the waiting, although the nap was nice, the doctor spent about 5 minutes with me before sending me home. Now it is a waiting game for the social security folks to do their part and see what we get.