That’s why doctors call us patients

For the past month I have been talking to my ophthalmologist. I had two cataracts removed, which is not serious in itself. But what happens in this surgery is what baffles me.

I have often wondered why doctors call us patients. I have come to realize that doctors are not patients, so they expect us to be patient. I need to work on it.

I had two cataract operations two weeks apart. It took a whole month to go through the process. After surgery it will take another 4-6 weeks to get the proper glasses I need for reading.

Talk about being patient!

However, needing this procedure, I had to take what came with it. I must say that I am no more patient today than a month ago.

The first time I went to the eye doctor, he made me an appointment at 9:15. No problem. The kind lady at the parsonage took me there 15 minutes early to make sure I wouldn’t be late.

An hour later, I finally got to see the doctor. I think he is, on the other hand, trying to develop patience in my life.

On the first visit, I had to wear a mask and it’s not a problem for me. If it makes other people happy, so be it. I’m just not very happy about wearing a mask.

As I was sitting waiting for my appointment, the lobby began to fill up with new patients. An old man sat next to me and we nodded. I went back to what he was doing.

Within a few minutes, I start to smell something pretty gross. I didn’t want to look at the guy next to me, but I didn’t smell him before he sat down, so I decided I couldn’t take that stench any longer.

I got up to have a drink of water made for us, washed my hands, and then sat down in another spot.

And of course, within a minute or two another man came in and sat down two chairs from me. They set it up so you couldn’t sit next to someone. I smiled and nodded, then went back to reading.

Within a relatively short time, I started to smell that smell and it seemed to get worse as I sat there. I don’t like to make a fuss or embarrass anyone, so I just sat there for as long as I could.

Then I got up to get another drink of water, washed my hands, and walked across the room to another seat. This time an older woman came in and sat down two seats away. Again I nodded my head, smiled and went back to reading.

Then I smelled that smell again. This was getting pretty ridiculous. I can understand an old man smelling so bad, but he was a bit confused as to why this woman smelled like this.

At this point, I didn’t know what to do. I got up twice before, and the third time draws attention to you.

He was wearing a mask, so he couldn’t understand how he could smell anything through that mask. It’s supposed to protect me from outside particles, whatever that means.

So I got to thinking, if my mask can’t protect me from outside stench, what makes me think it can protect me from some floating germs?

As I was thinking, a terrible thought rumbled through my head. This thought can’t be true, I told myself. But what if this stench is not coming from outside but from inside my mask?

That idea was absurd and he wanted to dismiss it as quickly as possible. But you know how it is; a thought will haunt you until you pay attention to it.

Cautiously, I lowered my mask, sniffed deeply at my breath, and nearly passed out. That stench was my breath.

The problem was that my mouth was very close to my eyes that the doctor was going to work on. Something had to be done before the doctor called me.

While I was thinking about this, the nurse came into the room and called my name and took me to the operating room. My prayer at the time was that all these masks that I, the nurse, and in particular the doctor wore, would actually work. I didn’t want the stench to come out of my mask and into the mask of the doctor who was working on me.

I said a quick prayer and before I could say “amen” the doctor walked in.

I tried to keep my mouth shut as much as possible, hoping that a closed mouth and various masks would work.

The doctor finished his surgery, and just as I was walking out the door, he turned and looked at me and said, “Are you sure you didn’t have breakfast? It smells like garbage this morning.”

My patience fizzled out right there.

“Have patience therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. Behold, the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, and he is long-suffering to receive it, until he receives the early and latter rain” (James 5:7).

Patience is not easy, but it has a wonderful reward.