A visit to the repair shop
If the question came up about why this post was delayed, I can explain. In tech speak, one of our video feeds malfunctioned, and the whole system had to be brought in for repairs. No real choice. I had the time available, and so we went off to the depot, over across.
The schedule wasn’t respected, completely; I brought the unit in at the right time, but it was hours later that the technician in charge could concentrate on the task. I had some time in a waiting room, with not much else to do but listen to shop chatter.
Imagine a group of nurses, dressed in the very casual manner of this century. No more starched caps, or stripes of rank. However, they do brag about their seniority: “I was part of the class of ‘06” which immediately saw me counting on my fingertips and feeling very old. “Do you remember those rhymes we used to remember nerve orders in Anatomy?” Wait, you used rhyming to get through the stuff we all now gather from Google? How’d that work out for you? “We’re finally getting that training about catheters, next week” And what have you done up until now? No, I don’t want to know.
I finally got to spend some time in the actual area where work is done, and they had me strapped down, hooked up and ready to transmit in a matter of minutes. Reassuring to hear a steady beep, as mild anesthetic/induced amnesia begins.
What do I actually remember about the repair session? Well, the light show tended to shades of dark pink, and the changes seemed to be synced with a vacuum pump; is that possible? I must contact my preferred nurse about all of this. In the end, I was brought back to where my clothes were hung (what was that all about?) and given careful instructions not to lift anything heavy or stand in a cold shower for too long. As if!
