Waiting, waiting, waiting …In checkout lines, at airports, in traffic, on hold — people of all races, nationalities and income levels can commiserate over the fact that we humans waste a lot of time in idle anticipation.

In fact, a recent British study found that Brits spend, on average, 11% (equivalent to seven years!) of their waking hours in a state of waiting. I imagine a study in our country would yield similar results.

Waiting plays heavily into all forms of the arts, including the movies “Waiting For Guffman” and “Wait Until Dark,” the classic “Waiting For Godot,” The Stones’ “Waiting On A Friend,” Van Morrison’s “The Waiting Game,” and The Band’s “The Weight” (a little homophone humor … OK — a very little).

If we define waiting as living in a state of limbo, where we know something will happen in the near future but we are not sure when, then the physician’s waiting room perfectly fits the definition. I’m not talking about the moderately comfortable area where patients peruse their cellphones as they anticipate being summoned in by a smiling nurse. I am referring to the “inner” waiting room, where, after taking our blood pressure and confirming our medications, a friendly physician’s assistant heads for the door, saying, “The doctor will be with you shortly.”

Shortly … we all know that benign code word for 10-20 minutes. The door closes and the waiting begins. And here, Dear Reader, is where this column does a deep dive, delves into the heart, the marrow, the pith of the subject at hand, that subject being, lest you’ve forgotten, WAITING.

What do you do in your doctor’s waiting room? How do you pass the time you could be using in some productive or, at least, comfortable way? This is the question that consumed me during my recent visit for a blood pressure check-up. “What the heck do my fellow Pioneer Valley-ers actually do or think about as they experience this state of limbo?” I wondered.

I decided to do some research outside of our area. I reached out to my four siblings and their partners, and to other family members; my findings were moderately (at best) interesting. Two siblings admitted that they liked to swipe pairs of those thin latex gloves. (I thought, why? What do you do with those cheap things that tear so easily?)

Three others said they enjoyed opening drawers of the cabinets to see what was inside (Again, why? Do they expect to discover something titillating or mysterious?) Others confided that they were too nervous about breaking an unwritten rule to do anything but sit in that less-than-comfy vinyl chair and wait for God to enter.

But perhaps I phrased the question incorrectly. What I am really interested in knowing is what people think about for 15 minutes in that sterile, unappealing space. I know what I think about, and, whether you are interested or not, dear column-follower, I will share my waiting room thoughts with you.

I tend to imagine doing things that would be considered outside the accepted norms of behavior. I picture myself hopping on the ubiquitous stool with wheels and careening off the walls and cabinets, zigzagging here and there across and around the room. What great fun that would be!

I imagine doing vertical leaps up onto the tops of the low cabinets, beating my chest and screaming, “I am a healthy 74 year-old!” (My actual, maximum vertical leap is 2 inches.) In my mind, I decipher the passcode to my doctor’s computer and log in, only to realize there is nothing of even the slightest interest for me to find.

As far as physical activities are concerned, I often do squats, leg stretches, and back bends, all the while being aware that my doctor might knock and enter at any time. But why do I care if my doctor is about to enter? Will she kick me out for exercising, which she tells me is good for me? We humans are strange creatures, so easily embarrassed, so conditioned to live within the lines, drawn by others, without our input.

What I would like to do in the state of limbo is nothing, just sit and meditate, clear my mind, take a break from thinking. Alas, I have not been successful. Instead, when I’m not deluding myself with wild shenanigans, I am mentally composing guest columns, wondering if and why anyone would read my waiting room ramblings.

Gene Stamell would love to know how you pass time in your doctor’s waiting room. He can be reached at gstamell@gmail.com.