In this issue
April 9, 2014

Jonathan Tobin: Why Did Kerry Lie About Israeli Blame?

Samuel G. Freedman: A resolution 70 years later for a father's unsettling legacy of ashes from Dachau

Jessica Ivins: A resolution 70 years later for a father's unsettling legacy of ashes from Dachau

Kim Giles: Asking for help is not weakness

Kathy Kristof and Barbara Hoch Marcus: 7 Great Growth Israeli Stocks

Matthew Mientka: How Beans, Peas, And Chickpeas Cleanse Bad Cholesterol and Lowers Risk of Heart Disease

Sabrina Bachai: 5 At-Home Treatments For Headaches

The Kosher Gourmet by Daniel Neman Have yourself a matzo ball: The secrets bubby never told you and recipes she could have never imagined

April 8, 2014

Lori Nawyn: At Your Wit's End and Back: Finding Peace

Susan B. Garland and Rachel L. Sheedy: Strategies Married Couples Can Use to Boost Benefits

David Muhlbaum: Smart Tax Deductions Non-Itemizers Can Claim

Jill Weisenberger, M.S., R.D.N., C.D.E : Before You Lose Your Mental Edge

Dana Dovey: Coffee Drinkers Rejoice! Your Cup Of Joe Can Prevent Death From Liver Disease

Chris Weller: Electric 'Thinking Cap' Puts Your Brain Power Into High Gear

The Kosher Gourmet by Marlene Parrish A gift of hazelnuts keeps giving --- for a variety of nutty recipes: Entree, side, soup, dessert

April 4, 2014

Rabbi David Gutterman: The Word for Nothing Means Everything

Charles Krauthammer: Kerry's folly, Chapter 3

Amy Peterson: A life of love: How to build lasting relationships with your children

John Ericson: Older Women: Save Your Heart, Prevent Stroke Don't Drink Diet

John Ericson: Why 50 million Americans will still have spring allergies after taking meds

Cameron Huddleston: Best and Worst Buys of April 2014

Stacy Rapacon: Great Mutual Funds for Young Investors

Sarah Boesveld: Teacher keeps promise to mail thousands of former students letters written by their past selves

The Kosher Gourmet by Sharon Thompson Anyone can make a salad, you say. But can they make a great salad? (SECRETS, TESTED TECHNIQUES + 4 RECIPES, INCLUDING DRESSINGS)

April 2, 2014

Paul Greenberg: Death and joy in the spring

Dan Barry: Should South Carolina Jews be forced to maintain this chimney built by Germans serving the Nazis?

Mayra Bitsko: Save me! An alien took over my child's personality

Frank Clayton: Get happy: 20 scientifically proven happiness activities

Susan Scutti: It's Genetic! Obesity and the 'Carb Breakdown' Gene

Lecia Bushak: Why Hand Sanitizer May Actually Harm Your Health

Stacy Rapacon: Great Funds You Can Own for $500 or Less

Cameron Huddleston: 7 Ways to Save on Home Decor

The Kosher Gourmet by Steve Petusevsky Exploring ingredients as edible-stuffed containers (TWO RECIPES + TIPS & TECHINQUES)

Jewish World Review Feb. 14, 2006 / 16 Shevat, 5766

In doctor's office, it's hurry up and wait

By Mitch Albom

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http://www.JewishWorldReview.com | It begins the moment I enter the doctor's office. How long? Although I've asked for the first appointment of the day — it is 7:30 a.m. — there already are two patients sitting in the room when I arrive. How long?

I sign the sheet. I see the names before mine. They also list their appointments as "7:30." How can three people be at 7:30?

I take a seat.

How long?

I am there only for a blood test. No need to see the doctor. Just a needle, a tube, a label, a piece of cotton that I press down with my finger. How long can that take?

A white-haired woman enters the office. She signs in. A middle-aged man follows. Now there are five of us. Sitting in silence. The old woman picks up a magazine. No movement from the other side of the doors.

How long?

I hear the doctor in the background. I hear him chatting to his staff. A small voice inside me yells, "Stop chatting, start examining!" Another man enters the office. He signs in. Now there are six.

The door opens. A name is called. Not mine. I check my watch. Already 15 minutes have passed since my "appointment."

My foot starts tapping.

How long?

There are magazines in the corner. I resist the urge to pick one up. I do not want to settle in with a magazine. I do not want to surrender to the black hole. No. I won't pick up a magazine. I am sure they will call me. Another patient enters — a thin young man — and he signs in. Why do so many go for such early appointments?

Did they all think they were first?

The door opens. Another name. Not mine. Worse. It is a person who came in after me. "No fair!" screams the voice inside of me. "No fair! Go in order!"

Who do I see about this? My foot taps faster. Twenty minutes have passed. That's a blip of time in a doctor's office. Yet I wonder how the doctor reacts when he has to wait 20 minutes at a restaurant?

Another new patient enters. She signs in. Someone coughs. Otherwise it is silent. Twenty-five minutes have passed.

I know I should be calm. I know I should stop and smell the roses. But a doctor's office does not smell like roses. It smells like a latex glove.

I happily will smell the roses — if they'd just open the door, give me my blood test and let me go outside where the roses are.

Thirty minutes. One half-hour. Not a word from anyone. Not a "thanks for being patient." Nothing. I wonder if I could sit here all day?

How long?

The door opens. Another name is called. It's a woman who just got there! The cardinal sin! She rises. We all look up. "Who does she know?" the voice inside me screams. "Did she pay extra? Why her? Not fair!"

I picture a revolt. I picture the middle-aged man, the thin guy, the other woman and me storming the desk, forcing our way over the desk. I picture us catching the doctor loafing in his office, looking at Mercedes catalogs.

"Aha!" we scream.

Forty minutes. In my head I wonder, "Should I say something? Is it rude? It's not rude, right? They're rude, not me, right?"

I give it five more minutes. A nice round number. Forty-five, I say. Forty-five comes. Forty-five goes. I stand. I approach the desk. I clear my throat.

"You're next," the nurse says.

I sit back down. What does that mean? Next? Wasn't I first? Why is it always like this in a doctor's office? Who are these people who think scheduling three people at the same time is normal?

Forty-seven minutes. I am led inside. They stick the needle. I press the cotton. I put on my coat. I exit the office. The faces don't look up, but I know what they are thinking. They are thinking, "How long?" They are hating every minute of it.

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