All around in a circle
Sometimes, it would be nice to have just a little more information. Take, for example, my visit to the hospital this morning. A simple control visit, which should have taken less than an hour in the worst of times. I arrived early, which is a good idea, and the usual nurse met me on the ward and asked me if I’d checked in to the admin window. Not yet, but I was on my way. Slight correction; they’d moved things around and I had to go to the information desk on the first floor, first (is this a new way of naming levels?).
No big deal, because even slow elevators can handle a one deck transition. I made my way downstairs and joined a long, slow line at the main desk. Twenty-five minutes later, I took my place at the window, where the attendant asked why I had stopped by. Other than “I have an appointment; the nurse told me to” there isn’t much else to say. She explained that my file was fine, and she could see no reason for my detour. Oh, wait. Opthalmology… they have a new administration window, on this floor, at the other end of the hospital. Of course, there was another waiting line there, and I kept my patience in check. Once my name had been checked (literally, as in checkmark checked), I was told to return to the second floor. There, another waiting line, to check that my name had been checked, and off to the waiting room. Total time of detour: 35 minutes. I’m now just a wee bit late for my appointment, but who will ever notice?
I had some personal success, because I actually could see the big E today. A second surgeon gave the opinion that the “second operation” might not be needed, but I now have a date for a redo on the “first operation”. I received lots of papers to get completed by a family physician, and a fast track to an ECG. For those who don’t know, this is a one minute procedure. Stick ten electrical contacts on the chest area and arms and legs, attach the requisite number of leads, wait 30 seconds, detach the leads, remove the stickies, put your clothes back on and leave. Apparently, this will serve as medical proof that I am alive before any further surgical procedure.
The trip across the city to my local clinic required an hour on the city bus, where I learned that there is slim to no chance of seeing my family guy in the next two weeks. I’ll be referred to a colleague tomorrow morning, if I get there early enough and… no, wait. Just off the phone and that won’t do either. They’re working on plan 2.5 right now.
