I’ve never paid a lot of attention to the doctors’ offices that I’ve gone to. Mostly, I’ve just wanted to get through my appointment with as little distraction as possible. However, as I’ve gotten older, met more people, and especially, as I’ve started working for a health center, my whole approach to doctors’ offices has changed a lot.

Today, I had my annual physical. Between high blood pressure, high cholesterol and getting past fifty, I have more things to attend to, although it is nothing compared to what friends who have chronic or potentially terminal conditions go through when they go to the doctors’ office.

The process of checking in went about as expected. I had changed jobs since my last physical, so I needed to show them a copy of my new insurance card. Of course, I couldn’t find it, but they had a copy of it on file from my wife’s most recent doctor’s visit.

I didn’t have to wait long for the medical assistant to see me. She checked my vital statistics; height and weight have stayed the same, blood pressure was a little high, still no surprises. They took an ECG, another test I’m used to having. However, this time, instead of having a machine printing out the graph on a piece of paper, she plugged the machine into her laptop and the data was automatically stored in my electronic health record.

I glanced at it. I wouldn’t recognize it if there was anything out of the ordinary, but still I looked. It was interesting. With all the data gathered, the medical assistant left the examination room, telling me the doctor would see me soon. She pointed to a pile of magazines and suggested I could read them while I wait.

Two of the things that people complain about most during doctors’ visits is waiting in the waiting room and then waiting in the examination room. So far, there was minimal waiting and there were efforts to make sure that I would have something to read, to make the wait less tedious.

Unfortunately, the choice of magazines was not particularly inspiring. There was People, Shape, and some magazine about fitness for pregnant women, or something like that. All of the magazines seemed focused on thin young white women. Now, I admit, if they include Sports Illustrated, or Field and Stream I wouldn’t have been much more interested. My taste in magazines is probably more towards Ploughshares, Paris Review or Prairie Schooner.

So, I read messages on my cellphones until they both died. Then, I glanced around the room. There were several posters about osteoporosis. Each poster sported the name of one pharmaceutical company or another. There were other posters about high blood pressure, asthma and various other conditions, but it seemed as if while the magazines were aimed at younger women, the posters were aimed at older women.

There was also a chart on one of the walls listing different medications that could be purchased inexpensively at a large local box store. All in all the room was clean and efficiently laid out. However, there were a couple boxes on the floor in various locations. Far enough out of the way to not be a hazard, but they would probably be flagged as a violation if The Joint Commission or some other organization came buy on a surprise visit. My mind wandered back to the lab, which had a big sign on the refrigerator door. The fridge was clearly marked as a place to store vaccines. Employees should not store their lunch in that fridge.

The doctor ended up being delayed at the hospital, but the wait wasn’t that bad. After reviewing recent aspects of my health history, I was on my way; nothing serious to be concerned about.

Yet from my time learning more about the medical system and talking with patient activists, I came away feeling that I had a much keener sense of all that was involved with my physical. As we struggle as a nation on how to deal with health care, perhaps a good starting point is for everyone to just be a little more observant during their trips to the doctors office.