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First, let me just start by saying I have "good" health insurance. It gets more expensive and covers less every year, but it is still considered good insurance and I have it. I stay at a job I hate just so that I can keep it. Still, when I fell two weeks ago and twisted my knee on the way down, I already knew from past experience that attempting to get treatment for the knee would not be easy or pretty. So I didn't. Not that day anyway.

The next day, I was barely to my morning break at work and my knee hurt so bad I couldn't think, even sitting still it was excruciating. So against my better judgment I left for the walk-in clinic at my doctors' office. I chose the doctors at this office partly because they do offer a walk-in clinic, and it is only for patients there, so I reasoned, this could be helpful after hours or when an accident occurs. Emergency room visits are surcharged on my insurance plan, even with preapproval, but this I could do.

When I finally hobbled into the clinic, I saw that only about four people were waiting in a room that seats at least 30. A good sign. The receptionist asked me what seemed to be the problem. It seemed to me that the problem was pretty obvious to anyone old enough to speak, but I explained what happened and what was going on. She looked me up on the computer, copied my insurance card, and invited me to take a seat.

Two hours later, I was still sitting there. I hate to complain, because I know it isn't the fault of the receptionist, but I did hobble up to the desk and ask if perhaps I had been forgotten. "We're just really busy," she said, looking sheepishly at the nearly empty waiting room. She popped into the hallway behind her, looked and some chart, then came back and said, "It won't be much longer, you're the next one."

Finally, one of the women who had been waiting and already called emerged from the hallway. As she walked past me she said, "Well, there goes six hours of my life-hope you have better luck!" And she laughed. I admired her good natured attitude. Ten minutes later my name was called and I was weighed and led back to an examination room. The nurse asked me what happened and I told her. She said I'd better have an x-ray, handed me a slip of paper, and directed me to another waiting room, where I waited another two hours before hobbling after a harried x-ray technician and getting a quick and fairly unpleasant x-ray. The technician was rushed and cranky and made a few not-that-hilarious remarks about my inability

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