Sunday, February 7, 2010

HM Tells The Partial Tale

My trip to Barnes-Jewish Hospital was quite the expedition. My appointment with T-Doc was set for 10:20, but a few weeks ago his office called and said they had scheduled me for a repeat ultrasound at 9:45, and that I should plan to be there by 9:15. Have you ever been to Barnes-Jewish Hospital, people? Because there is usually some kind of construction going on, which makes that downtown jaunt all the more daunting. For me, anyway. But I don't like to drive in the city. Fortunately, Chauffeur H knows all the shortcuts, named and unnamed, because he used to work in that general area. We had taken The Pony there for his elbow surgery a couple of years ago, so Chauffeur H had the timing down pat.

By the time we found a parking spot on the roof of the parking garage, and took an elevator to the skywalk level, and hiked over to the Siteman Cancer Center, and got lost looking for an elevator that stopped at the 2nd floor, and asked directions at the information desk, where the informant was busy with a personal call on her cell phone, and treated us like she didn't care if we lived or died, or did the latter right in front of her info was 9:00 when I arrived at the Radiology sign-in desk. At least the signer-inner was polite and professional.

From there, we went to the ultrasound waiting room for about 5 minutes, and I was called in. Five steps out of the waiting room was my ultrasound exam room, where I was given a hospital gown and told to take off my shirt and put on the gown so that it tied in the back, but not tightly. I waited about five-ten minutes for the tech to come in and ultrasound me. The worst part was lying down with a pillow under my shoulders and my neck stretched back. That tech left me with a survey to fill out now or later, and said he would check with his attending. Then another dude came in, this one a short Asian by the name of Tan with a heavy accent. He ultrasounded me, then said he would check with his attending. After another wait, which I spent sitting up, thank you very much, because I would rather not have blood pooling around my cranial cavities for unknown lengths of time, a different dude walked in and ultrasounded me. That's three for the price of one, people! He finished up and swabbed that ultrasound gel off me like he was wiping down a newborn foal, then told me I could get dressed and leave. Nobody showed me the door (or even the flimsy curtain), just left me to find my way back those five steps to the waiting room.

Chauffeur H had his man-panties in a wad. "You are going to be late for your doctor's appointment! It is 10:15!" We hustled back to the elevators, only getting lost once in a misguided wrong turn by Chauffeur H after he stopped for a potty break. The receptionist for T-Doc handed me a printout with some terribly unknown phone number listed for me, so I had to change that. We waited about five minutes there, and I was called back to the exam room. Chauffeur H insisted on going in with me, which I was none to keen on, but since I wanted a ride home, I consented.

A med student came in and introduced herself. I promptly forgot her name, but she was some type of Indian (dot not feather) and very attentive. She questioned me and examined me and went back out to the hall, where we heard her conferring with T-Doc.

More details on T-Doc's pronouncements on Monday.


Kathy's Klothesline said...

"dot not feather" I read that as do not feather and was lost momentarily....

Hillbilly Mom said...

Not that one could become lost in Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's blog...