What a summer! So much to write about.. lots of golf (my friend Steve — now known as “Ace” — notched his first hole in one, in case you live under a rock and haven’t heard him tell the story. There were lots of beautiful beach days, caught Billy Crystal on Broadway with Carrie for our anniversary (34 years … kill me now!) And, the topper, signing up to begin receiving Social Security checks, while there still IS Social Security. I’ll circle back on these soon.

But today, friends, I choose to write about my calendar. Actually, it’s becoming the calendar of my mother (may she rest in peace).

When she and my father retired and moved to Florida, we would bring our then-little girls for visits. I couldn’t help but notice how full my mother’s calendar was, hanging as it did on the inside of the pantry cabinet door in her kitchen. (Ours is taped to the inside of the cabinet door where we keep our drinking glasses. Where’s yours?)

“Hey Ma, you look pretty busy down here. Retirement must be fun!”

“Are you kidding? Look closer.. they’re all doctor’s appointments. It’s disgusting”

(Quick side story. My mother-in-law, who will never be able to read this due to the fact that it only exists on the computer she can’t operate, says that everything today is disgusting. “Four dollars for slice of pizza? Disgusting! Cats and dogs living together… Disgusting!” So, there’s a new drinking game in the family. Every time she says “disgusting,” we have to do a shot of alcohol. She calls every day, so we’ve been pretty wasted all summer!)

Anyway, looking at MY calendar for October, I noticed I have four doctor’s appointments. That, folks, is the very essence of getting old. GP, cardiologist, pulmonologist, dermatologist. You get the gist.

And I’m proud to announce today that I led a revolution in the doctor’s office, where I went to get my annual physical. I arrived at my scheduled appointment of 11:45, and walked into a waiting room full of people. One woman was crying. I asked what her ailment was, and she replied, “I’m fine. I’m just here for a checkup.” “So why are you crying,” I asked.

“I’ve been here since 9:30,” she said between sobs.

So, apparently without any warning, the doctor who runs the group must have changed his oath from “First do no harm” to “First, make ’em wait.” Which, not so coincidentally, aligns with his other motto, “First get the money.”

I started asking everyone what their appointment times were. 10. 10:10. 10:20. You get it. Every 10 minutes. Most of them were there to see the same doctor I was waiting for, and had been waiting an unusually long time.

Another woman went up the receptionist a few times to remind the girl that she’s a diabetic, and was fasting because she needed blood work and was starting not to feel well. She was told she was next and to please sit back down.

Another 15 minutes passed. She went to the receptionist again, and was reassured that she was next. They were just cleaning up the room.

Another 15 minutes passed. I couldn’t take it anymore. I suggested that we all storm the door leading to the exam rooms and just overrun the office, so they HAD to see us. I felt like Bluto Blutarsky leading the Deltas.. “Hey, did we quit after the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?” I was on a roll. Surprisingly, most of the other patients had WAY more patience than I did. No one followed as I ran for the door.

After another 45 minurtes, I suggested that we all just leave. Hit ’em in the pocketbook! (My real intention here was that THEY all leave so that I would be next. But don’t tell them that.)

So I decided to leave. I went to the receptionist and asked to have my co-pay refunded.

I was told I would get a credit.

Disgusting!