The Omens

I went to the hospital for some tests today. That would be all I needed to say, if Hillbilly Mom led a normal life. But no. Nothing is ever simple for Hillbilly Mom.

To start things off, on the normal way to school at the normal time, to drop off my spawn for a day plumb chock full o' learnin', I encountered a bicyclist. You don't understand. Around here, people don't ride bicycles. Not unless they drive their bikes up to the 11-mile trail at the state park, and park at the parking lot where students tell me gay guys meet, and that you know who is looking for some action because they back into the parking places. Which makes me regret the times I used to park there and walk the trail, carefully backing my car into a slot.

Anyhoo, the point is that I was on the old road by the lake, and it is downhill for about 3 miles, and nobody in his right mind would push a bike up a 3-mile hill just to ride it back down later. This is curvy, hilly, two-lane, no-shoulder blacktop without even a center line, though at one time I think one existed, because sometimes I get a faint glimpse of faded yellow paint down the center crack. I popped up over a hill and rounded a right-hand curve, and there he was, smack-dab in the middle of my lane, with a car coming in the opposite direction. I slammed on my brakes, hoping the dude in the metallic blue dually who was tailgating me could stop in time. The pedestri-cyclist yanked his bike into the ditch where there should have been shoulder, and I proceeded. Talk about a bad omen...

The kids were dropped off without further ado, and I proceeded to my mom's house, because she had volunteered to drive me. I saw that her car was out of the garage, and that she had the windows open, which was kind of odd, since the temperature was 28 degrees. We got in, and she started laughing, and said, "I guess you noticed." Thinking that she was referring to my big-mouthed children's yakking about how, "Mom says your car stinks like a barnyard, but you just say 'Oh, it's that new car smell' even though you've had this car for 8 years," I told her I knew why she had the windows down. She then commenced to tell me that, "I went out to the garage to move the car, and I thought, 'What is that SMELL?' Then I recognized it. It was from that perm I got yesterday. Boy, did it stink! I knew you wouldn't like it, so I rolled down the windows." I let that one go.

At the hospital, I looked over the counter past the palsied hand of the old man volunteer, and saw that I was scheduled for TWO tests, one at 8:30 and one at 9:30. This was not what the doctor's secretary had told me over the phone. She had stated that depending on the results of the first one, they might want to do the second one. So that put me off right then and there. What am I, some kind of cash cow with two insurances? Don't answer that. I consider it another bad omen.

The first test was given right on time, by a short blond lady who I think is the aunt of one of the Basementia teachers, as I've had her before for a lab tech. She took a super long time to process the results, and said she was taking it to the radiologist, and was gone another good long time. She came back and said there was currently no doctor available to read the results, and that it was not yet time for my second test, because the other tech had another patient. She draped me in not-quite-clothing and sent me packing back to the waiting room.

This I did not like. Sure, it was a 'private' waiting room, but there are six chairs, and I've been there when it was packed. My mom and I enjoyed about 10 minutes of privacy and then it happened. The lights started flashing and a hideously LOUD buzzer sounded for about 30 seconds. There was an announcement over the PA system, "Mrs. Red is at the ER desk." Gosh-darn that Mrs. Red! How dare she demand so much freakin' attention! I told my mom there must be an emergency that needed all responders possible. Then that little blond lady came to the outside door of our waiting room, and said, "I'm just going to close this door. We're having a fire drill." Great. At least they didn't make me trek outside without even a coat (because my loving mother dropped me off at the door and then parked and dodged the little trolley man) with all my bits and pieces hanging out. How many of you have ever been subjected to a freakin' fire drill at a hospital. Bad omen.

At the stroke of 9:30, my other lab tech, 'Sharon', came to get me. She told my mom to stay put, told me to bring my clothes, and took me into her lair across the hall. A pleasanter lab tech you'll never meet than Sharon. She made just the right amount of small talk, performed her duties, reperformed her duties, told me that they never know when they're having a fire drill, discussed the hospital benefits system, professed that kids these days need to learn how to follow the rules or get the paddle, explained how their computer records system forwards lab info straight to the doctor's computer, told me to expect my results from the doctor within 48 hours, said that I could pick up a copy of the records for myself on Friday but that it would cost me unless I was picking them up to take to a doctor, nudge nudge, then held the door open for me, and whispered behind her hand, "I wouldn't lose any sleep over this."

Sharon ROCKS!