In a bewildering situation that unfolded at an outpatient clinic in Minneapolis, MN, 32-year-old Teagan Wood waited for 40 minutes to see her gynecologist for her annual visit, only to be brought into an empty exam room and told the bald-faced lie that Dr. Ocherman would be in shortly.
“I thought when the PA called my name, that meant it was finally my turn,” Wood told reporters. “I was like, ‘sayonara, waiting room peasants, I’ve got a hot date with the speculum!’” Wood paused, remembering the hopeful, sassy woman she had been before the medical-industrial complex killed her spirit.
“Well, the joke was on me. Sitting in this exam room by myself is worse than rotting in the main waiting room,” Wood went on. “There’s garish fluorescent lighting that makes my legs look like a pair of Veggie Straws in stirrups. And instead of glossy magazines with the perfume sample pages ripped out, there’s just a pamphlet called ‘Genital Warts and You.’ I don’t even have any snacks. I’ll probably die here.”
Shawna Davidson, the physician’s assistant who escorted Wood to the exam room, explained to reporters that many patients misunderstand the waiting process.
“Moving to the next area is not an indication that your appointment is about to begin. Rather, it’s the equivalent of ‘leveling up,’” said Davidson. “It means you’re getting closer to the final boss, but you still haven’t earned the prize of medical attention. Some people leave before we can bring them back, so getting to the private room is actually an achievement.”
“Plus,” continued Davidson in a hushed tone that suggested she was about to violate HIPAA, “this particular patient was giving off an extremely agitated, negative energy in the waiting room. We didn’t want to risk her infecting other patients with her vibe.”
Wood complained to reporters that she had even less agency in the exam room than she’d had in the waiting room. “There’s no one in here to ask how much longer it’s going to be. And I worry that if I leave to go find someone to complain to, I’ll get lost and never be able to find my way back – as I mentioned, I don’t have any food with me, like not even a Lara Bar, so I can’t leave a trail of gluten-free breadcrumbs to retrace my steps.”
As of press time, Wood had not yet been seen by Dr. Ocherman and was attempting to take a series of angry-cute paper gown selfies for a close-friends story with the caption, “still waiting…” Unfortunately, due to the horrifically unflattering lighting, she was unable to use any of them.
