RLS: Restless Leg Syndrome or Rapid Liver Sickness...Huh?

Today was one of my favorite (blatant sarcasm) days:  the annual visit to the OB-GYN.  I don't really mind going so much, it's usually quick and my doctor is rather cool, it's just not in my top 100 cherished activities (and if it is in anyone's top 100, you have some issues).  My very first OB-GYN was a nice, sweet older gentleman who was as wide as he was tall, and let's just say, he whistled while he worked, which I didn't mind.  But I digress, and oddly enough, this posting isn't really about the OB-GYN visit at all, but about the other patients in the waiting room.

I sat flipping through a dull magazine while waiting to see my OB-GYN, when a young couple came in, and I do mean young.  I'm assuming early twenties, but they could be older or younger than that.  The guy looked like a contestant on American Idol, complete with wild haircut and funky hipster shoes, and his wife/girlfriend looked like a pregnant American Idol groupie.  They seemed pleasant and likeable...until they started talking.

Apparently the guy left something important like a drivers license or some form of i.d. somewhere and he desperately needs it, at least by tomorrow, so they were discussing how they would go retrieve this said item.  They were trying to juggle who had to do what or who had to be where, and would they pick it up today, or maybe they could pick it up tomorrow morning.  Fair enough.  I've had that type of dilemma where the best solution wasn't immediately obvious.  However, after 10 minutes of loudly rehashing their same options over and over and over again, I wanted to go give them each severe paper cuts with the magazine I was reading, and volunteer to pick up the item myself if they would just top talking about it.  I don't want anyone thinking I'm a mean person and that I complain about everyone (I complain about a lot of people, but not everyone).  I'm just easily frustrated with the manner in which people choose to conduct themselves in public at times, especially when it interferes with others' peace and quiet.

Fortunately, they decided to decide later on how to fetch the license and all was quiet in the OB-GYN waiting room once more.  In this waiting room, there is a television that loops a CNN Health Channel (I think it is CNN, so please don't yell at me if I'm wrong) and a panel of doctors were discussing RLS.  I suffer from RLS, so I know that is stands for Restless Leg Syndrome.  The American Idol guy asked his wife/gal, "What does RLS mean?"  She replied, "Rapid Liver Sickness."  I chuckled to myself because I thought she was kidding (turns out she wasn't).  He asked if she was sure, and she said, "Yah, my cousin has it."  It took all I had to keep from laughing out loud now because I didn't want to embarrass her.  That wasn't enough though.  She went on to describe her cousin's Rapid Liver Sickness, in great detail, and her guy was buying it.  After her monologue and they were once again quiet, the doctor on the television said, "RLS, or Restless Leg Syndrome, is treatable...and so on," and the guy looked at his gal and said, "It's not Rapid Liver Sickness, it's Restless Leg Syndrome," and she actually started to argue with him, that the doctor on the television was wrong and doing a disservice by spreading incorrect information to people because she knows what her cousin has, and it is called RLS, and so on, and so on.

By the time the nurse called me in to see my doctor, my head was pounding and I was frightened because these two, Mr. and Mrs. American Idol, are procreating.  I asked the nurse if she had ever heard of Rapid Liver Sickness.  She said, "No," and gave me a funny look.  I told her to never mind, that it's best not to know.

--Fortuitous Observer

PS.  I really do suffer from Restless Leg Syndrome, and I've found a link to a site on insomnia issues in general that might be helpful, or at least entertaining, to anyone else suffering from RLS (not to be confused with Rapid Liver Sickness), or other sleep problems!  This one is from The Insomnia Blog.