Handbaskets, Handbaskets, Get Yours Now Before Society Collapses

The tale that follows is perhaps the strangest encounter I ever had in a hospital lab setting. Which includes the time I went in for knee surgery and they mis-labeled my blood and tracked me down 30 minutes later to draw more.

I went upstairs to the clinic lab and signed in. It was 11:45. The waiting area was crowded, so I expected to wait a few minutes. It usually goes pretty quick. People are there for different tests, and different staff come out to get them and spirit them away.

While waiting, I observed two people approach the window. I assumed it was a young mom and her teenage son. The Gal was tall, about 5' 8", and a bit chunky. Not overly fat, but a large woman in short frilly skirt and fashionable blouse like young people wear. She had bleached blond hair that was shaved on the back of her head, and flapped over from a side part. Tasteful makeup completed her look.

The Boy looked perhaps 13 or 14, with a mop of tousled dark-brown hair barely visible at the front of his dark gray hoodie. He had black jeans-type pants, and tennis shoes. As they stood at the window, he leaned on the edge of the counter, while The Gal rubbed his back lovingly. I assumed that may he was developmentally disabled. He was very quiet, and The Gal did all the talking, giving the birthdate info as August something of 2002. Which I assumed was hers.

The receptionist asked if they had seen the doctor.

"No. Not today. We're just here for a test. They need the depo shot. I'll get mine another time."

The receptionist acted a bit confused, but told them okay, emphasizing that if they wanted both today, they'd need to go down to the hospital lab. The Gal didn't want to do that. So said they'd just do the test. They turned away from the window, and a man moved so they could have seats together.

With the kerfuffle of the FREAKING OUT TEEN taking so much time with the phlebotomist, the clientele thinned out as they were called for other tests. It was down to just ME, and The Gal and The Boy. The Mom and 2bee were down at the end of the alcove, waiting on TEEN to come out.

REEEEEE

The noon whistle sounded in town. Yes. They still do that here. At first I thought it might be a fire, or a weather warning, but then I realized the time. Living in the middle of nowhere, we don't hear the noon whistle, and it's been a while since I was teaching and heard it at school. A young woman in dark blue scrubs came up the hall and spoke to the receptionist at the window. She buzzed the phlebotomist door, and Scrubby went inside. They mentioned LUNCH.

The Gal gave me the side-eye. I raised my eyebrows. Then The Gal stood up and said, "What the F**K?"

 

I raised my hands, palm up, like "Whatcha gonna do?" 

 

"I am NOT waiting an hour for them to eat lunch! Come on! Let's go. We'll come back another time." The Gal grabbed The Boy by the shoulder of his sweatshirt, and they went off down the hall.

I also was not happy. I figured I'd give it a half hour. I did NOT want to come back another day, after fasting again, driving 30 minutes from Hillmomba. Luckily, within five minutes, the phlebotomist came out for the Mom, and they got that drama done, if not so much solved. A blond lady in dark blue scrubs came up the hall and told me, "We'll get you in in a minute." So that was good news.

Blondie went back down the hall and around the corner where the other phlebotomy room is located. And immediately came back with The Gal and The Boy. I guess she had seen them leave, and promised them that the lab would not close for lunch until they were seen. They came back to their original seats. We looked at each other and sighed with relief.

Scrubby came out with a little plastic cup, and called for The Boy to follow her to the pee room that was near where I was seated. Gave the standard instructions of how to obtain the pee sample, and to set it on the shelf inside the pee room, and then he was done and could leave. They would contact him with results.

The Gal stood up and leaned on the corner of the wall, chatting with me.

"That lady who brought you back told me she'd get to me in a minute. So at least I know I'm not waiting until after lunch for my blood draw."

"Yeah. We're just here for my partner to get a pregnancy test. I'm pretty sure they're not pregnant. I said, 'You're on the depo shot, stupid! It keeps you from getting pregnant! So why would you need a test?' But they still wanted to come get a test to be sure. I'm 20 years old and know how that works!"

"Oh. Well... I guess maybe you can never really be sure unless you rule it out."

MY MIND WAS REELING WITH THIS REVELATION!!! 

Thank the Gummi Mary, the second phlebotomist came out to call me down the hall. So I didn't have to try and keep my jaw from dropping to the floor any longer.

WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN???

Turns out The Boy was 20 years old! Born in 2002. I'd heard the birthdate given at the window. And now it appeared that maybe The Boy was not a boy at all!!! 

SO MANY QUESTIONS!

If they were partners, why was THE BOY getting a pregnancy test?

If THE BOY was a biological girl, on the depo shot, who was "he" fooling around with to get pregnant if "he" was in a relationship with THE GAL? Who was obviously a "real" gal.

If THE BOY was a biological boy, what kind of insurance pays for "him" to get a depo shot and a pregnancy test?

It's none of my business. But I didn't ask for all those details! How they live their life does not affect ME. I bear them no ill will. I'm just curious about the medical aspect and unnecessary treatments.