Crutchy Limpswell goes to the doctor

Posted: September 30, 2012 by S. Trevor Swenson in General, Life, Me & Mine
Tags: , , , , ,

Traipse downtown for a doctor’s appointment? Sure! Sounds like fun.

I had a follow up appointment with an orthopedic specialist to determine if I would need surgery, a cast or amputation for my ruptured Achilles tendon. I called a car service, which is going to be something I wont be able to afford to do much longer if I am out of work via this injury. I had a nice old Sikh man for a driver and we chatted pleasantly on the way to the hospital. I think I had him as my driver once before on the way to the oral surgeon in Manhattan for a wisdom tooth extraction. I felt a little bad about that ride as he was friendly and chatty, which I countered with grumpy, monosyllabic words. It wasn’t my fault. I’m not at my best before noon and I wasn’t allowed to have coffee prior to my visit. I was much more friendly during this trip. He was a sweet and friendly old man…grandfatherly almost. We talked about this and that. Grandpa with a turban. I like him. The sunny and warm September day, coupled with the nice man driving seemed like a positive omen.

My appointment was for 1pm and I arrived at 12:30. I checked in and was told I had to get a “hospital card” That took a half an hour. As I waited, people’s names were called and many didn’t respond to them That annoys me to no end. It’s yet another example of oblivious, stupid assholes making life more difficult for the rest of us. We have to wait longer because idiot, selfish douchenuggets can’t be bothered to be around when their name is called. It dawns on me once again that so many, possibly almost all bureaucratic annoyances are because of liars, frauds and people like this. What’s worse is all too often these people are breeding at an alarming rate.

I get my “hospital card” and hop in the elevator to the second floor which is where my appointment is. Upon arrival I try to find where my appointment is. The signs are confusing and I end up going to proctology and optometry first. Interesting these two branches of medicine are next door to each other. I imagined the optometrists engaged in a years long barrage of practical jokes inflicted upon their neighbors; Dr’s Bumworthy and Canyon. I know if I worked in that office I wouldn’t be able to resist.

I finally find the ortho room and there are 20 people out front waiting for X-rays and another long line in the office just to check in. I get in the check in line and wait…and wait. The office is exceptionally busy, but I had expected this. Finally I am told to take a seat. First they ask me my birthday, my address and then my birthday again “Seven-Twenty-Eight-Seventy” I hiss at the woman. It seems there is a fair amount of fraud at this hospital, and to combat this fraud they ask people their birthday’s twice.

I grab a seat in the waiting room and something is missing. It takes another 20 minutes for me to realize that I have been at this hospital for nearly an hour, been in two different waiting rooms and have yet to hear one screaming child. God, what am I going to be pissy about now? Oh, I’m sure I will find something. I’m a resourceful griper.

Sure enough, I overhear a man in the previous check in line saying “I aint getting out of line. I have a two o’clock appointment”. This remark was prefaced with a request from the office managers and nurses that only people with 1pm, 1:30 and 1:45 appointments get in line, all others please have a seat. Yeah, screw everyone else, screw expediting procedures, I want to be a selfish prick.

I sit close to the check in counter as I am supposed to be called back in a moment by another woman across from the woman I checked in with, She calls my name 15 minutes later. I crutch my way up and identify myself. She asks me my name and I answer, then she asks me to verify my address. “You speak English?” she continues. I stare at her for a moment before answering “Yes, a little.” I crutch back to the seats and sit down shaking my head.

Among the people in the waiting room is the cutest little Mexican boy in the world. He is perhaps one or one and a half years old with thick messy hair and big brown eyes. I was going to read a book, but the little boy is infinitely more entertaining to watch. Every two minutes or so he breaks free from mom and makes a break for it. Walking and running are obviously something new and exciting to this future track star. His running is funny and clod-hopper-esque. He has this great grin when he runs. Mom gets up and takes him by the arm leading him back to the corner where they are sitting. After 5 or 6 escape attempts, mom puts him in his stroller and straps him in. I don’t think he was really trying to escape. My theory is that he was trying to work the room, meet some girls, show everyone his athletic prowess. I was half expecting him to start howling after being restrained in his stroller, but he seems unphased. Mom hands him a baby’s bottle with milk. I love how he holds and drinks it. Almost like it’s a cold beer and he’s out with the boys. A little later dad comes in the room and unstraps him from the stroller. Dad hands him a cellphone. If Junior throws the cellphone against the wall, I may have to consider adoption.


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