"Very uncomfortable chairs"

Oh, darling, here I am, 35+ weeks pregnant, practically glowing with the excitement of sitting in a chair that could only be described as the lovechild of a medieval torture device and a public park bench. They told me, of course, that I should arrive a full 30 minutes ahead of my appointment—how considerate. I graced this establishment with my presence promptly at 30 minutes before, a time when I could only dream of a warm meal and perhaps a fleeting moment of comfort. And now, here we are, over an hour past my appointment time, and still languishing in this chair, the most unsympathetic of all waiting room furniture.

I understand, truly, that things sometimes take longer than anticipated. But surely, surely, someone in this fine establishment could have offered me a whiff of civility, a crumb of empathy, or—dare I say—a chair that doesn’t feel like it was designed to discourage human existence? I’ve made my peace with being pregnant, but this? This is a test of my very last nerve.