Blog 5: Tales Along the Senescent Trail-- The Waiting Room
Seriously!
I’ve been anchored to this gurney in a hallway next to the emergency room for two whole hours and nobody’s even come by to check on me!
I must say, it really doesn’t surprise me. After all, this is the VA.
Don’t be late!!
Hurry up and wait! Hurry up and wait!
As I lay there, I got to thinking about the last lab line. What a dog and pony show that was!
Just take a number . . . and wait. The waiting room was small and filled to capacity by every type of person you can imagine, all ready to blow . . . and some did. I distinctly recall waiting in line in the hallway with my number clutched tightly in my hand as a whole troop of VA riot police came charging by and into the lab room. After some scuffling and loud protests, they dragged some poor vet out the door and disappeared down a nearby stairwell.
If you were lucky enough to get a seat inside the waiting room, you had to keep your eyes glued to the digital number counter on the wall. If they called your number, and you didn’t respond within the allotted time, too bad! Go pick another number and get in line again.
The last time they siphoned off some of my blood in the second-floor hospital lab, I jumped when they called my number, (because I dozed off and wasn’t paying attention to the digital time warden).
I ran to the counter very apologetically, but the nurse wasn’t very sympathetic.
“ID please!” she hissed.
I fumbled in my wallet, and of course, it wouldn’t come out. It suddenly seemed glued to the leather slot in which it resided. I glanced at the nurse and smiled contritely. It finally popped loose and immediately slipped through my fingers onto the floor . . . somewhere.
“Wait, wait,” I begged.
I dropped down and scanned the stained rug. There seemed to be some type of unctuous odor emanating from the torn oriental weave. I pinched my nose and swept my fingers across the nasty nap, snagging my pinky on a loose wire just as I fingered my card. It bled nicely, and I should have immediately requested a tube and saved myself the trouble of a needle later.
“Ouch!” I protested.
From above I heard a deep sigh.
“Sir. Are you okay?” someone asked.
I arched up and banged my head against the nasty underside of the counter. I glanced up at the huge wads of gum reserved there and cringed.
I stood up.
“Yes. Yes. I’m okay.” I said half-heartedly.
She gave me a long look and sighed.
“Take this and give me a sample.”
She handed me what looked like a baby’s sippy cup. I looked at her questioningly. She pointed to the room at my left that said “Bathroom.”
I smiled sheepishly.
Her frown deepened.
I hustled over and through the door. I had to go real bad. Of course, wouldn’t you know it, the door would not lock! It reminds me of the Depot bathrooms where none of the sliding locks would ever slide into the lock, which of course, leaves you vulnerable to anyone who jerks the door open as you squirm on the stool hollering, “It’s occupied!”
I finally gave up and tried to unzip. Now, all men know that when the time comes, that little brass lever—the zipper-pull—is embedded in the zipper folds of the trousers, and no matter how hard you try, it just won’t come loose.
I started to get anxious. They were waiting for me.
After a furious jerk, I finally got the little brass b*****d loose and tried to go, as the urge was upon me. Of course, nothing happened. The dam wouldn’t break! I looked around the ceiling in desperation to see if any cameras were posted on me. Nothing.
Finally, it came, not in a great youthful gush, but a slow agonizing dribble that took FOREVER.
Suddenly, it was over. I snapped the lid tight, put it on the turnstile embedded in the wall, and gave it a spin. Smiling, I stepped back through the unlocked door.
A male nurse grabbed me by the arm, chuckling, and said, “Come with me.”
I followed him to what looked like a student desk with a swing arm.
“Sit here,” he said, politely. “Don’t mind the ladies. They really do like the vets.”
After giving what seemed like a pint or two of rich red blood in numerous vacutainers, he let me go, and I made my way back through the packed throng towards the exit.
The nurse turned toward me smiling and waved.
“Have a nice day!” she sang.
I did a small double-take and moved on.
Was that a one-fingered wave of her hand??
Nope!
Just another VA day.
