Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Oops! Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Did It Again!

Today I had to return to the hospital for a CAT scan of my lungs, to see if those persnickety blood clots are dissolving as they should. I took Mom upstairs for her facial de-lesioning, then parked my rumpus on a chair in radiology to await my test. I signed in--new policy alert! Instead of a list on a clipboard for all to see, including name and doctor and time, the hospital now has a flap of privacy covering the list, ordering you to sign only your last name. I guess it's a step in the right direction.

In no time, I was called up to the intake cubicle to provide my vital financial information. Yes. It involved handing over my beautiful likeness on my driver's license. I'm surprised they did not keep their own copy to frame and hang as a Mona Lisa portrait to brighten their department. After several signatures on that little electronic thingy, the last of which I actually got to appear legibly, on the line, I was free to go sit some more and wait my turn for the magnetic donut.

I had popped my anti-anxiety pill just before going to the cubicle. It works for about 45 minutes. Good thing I gave it a trial run, since the doctor had told me to take it one hour before. Pshaw! That would have left me with all my tender nerves tingling at the time I most needed sedation. I took sips of 7-UP while waiting. I checked my cell phone every three minutes, since there is no giant clock on the wall in radiology.

And then it happened. Apparently, in one of my 7-UP-sipping frenzies, I got a little drop on my finger. Because my cell phone had a sticky spot near the bottom. Right where I need to drag that little bar to unlock it. Right over the icon for email. You see where this is going, don't you?

I licked my finger and scrubbed that sticky smudge off my phone. I LICKED MY FINGER! My finger that had touched the pen at the sign-in paper, and my finger that had touched the fake pen on that electric signer, and my finger that had touched the entire electronic signer to pull it across the desk towards me. SICK PEOPLE GO TO THE HOSPITAL! I felt worse than Lucy Van Pelt after she was kissed by dog lips.

PTOOEY! I wanted to spit. And to rinse my mouth with bleach.

I blame the lengthy wait and subsequent time-checking on those barium drinkers. I know they were ahead of me. They had not even started sipping when my 10:30 appointment time rolled around.

What that hospital needs is more magnetic donuts.

4 comments:

Sioux said...

I see that commercial all the time, where the tired guy gets up and says, "It's time to make the doughnuts."

I guess he needs to work overtime, to ensure there are plenty of doughnuts.

(Krispy Kreme ALWAYS has doughnuts. Why don't you go there? They never run out. Or, would a croissant suffice instead? How about a muffin? Even a muffin stump is nice on occasion...)

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
No. NO! NO NO NO! I do not WANT to be inside a donut. Not a muffin. Not a muffin stump! But on the rare occasion when my presence is summoned to such...I do not want to wait for my turn to go inside the donut/muffin/stump.

The worst nightmare would be the croissant. Being rolled up in all those flaky layers, TRAPPED, with no way out.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

Germs are the absolute worst in hospital facilities .... oh, and Super 8 hotels.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Kathy,
Oh, yeah! The Super 8! I read that on your blog, and was so sickened that I had to get away. Can't remember if I left a comment, but I know it wasn't about the Super 8.

When I went on my senior trip to Daytona Beach, one of my three roommates found a giant pair of jockey shorts between the mattress and box spring. I don't know why she was looking there. I think because some of the guys claimed they found a pr0n magazine in their room.

You'd think that would have been enough to make us complain and get a new room, but strangely enough, that thought never entered our minds. We led sheltered lives. We were shocked and excited to find candy and juices and snacks in VENDING MACHINES!

Yeah. You can take the girl out of Hillmomba, but you can't take Hillmomba out of the girl.