Tuesday, September 29, 2015

We. actually. thought.(we really did) the hospital was gonna call and see how I was. We're sorta sub-lawn gnomey in our hospital intelligence. One of my medications was causing me to regurgitate like a 1970's ice machine. The doctor said, stop taking it. We were both like, are you sure? 

It was strange, we thought, we haven't heard from the hospital and then, there was some exit paperwork we thought we read at some point that they were gonna call us and let us know what time we should come on in Monday to see the doctor.

P dug out the papers out yesterday morning and rang them up-the hospital has some pretty intense classical 'please continue to hold' music and Grantley and Philip were dancing around to the music and THAT'S when I got my phone confiscated which is a giant bummer because that woudda be a GREAT picture.

Fooey. 


Then sometime tonight I thought um duh I am a cartoonist. 












So. We were supposed to call THEM to make the appointment. 

Oh. 


Few moments later-hey if we can get there in 15 minutes-they can squeeze and at this point I'm face down on the bed, so P rolls outside to organize the automobile situation and I try to find my shoes.  I have not seen them in two weeks. No kidding. This is not a good time to begin the hunt. 


We set off. He is an excellent driver but that did not stop me from pointing out what it would be like if we got in an accident. Go slow go slow go slow. Did I want him to drop me near the door so I could rest on the benches while he parked the car. No no no. Those spots are for people who really need them. I have a silver cane. Dammit. 

I was watching the faces of the people. I think, last time I was there I was one of the faces but this time-I had a little distance. Wow. People carrying such worry in their faces. Or is it pain. Or is it sorrow. And I dunno. I got on the elevator and I did stand-up. 

The lights were dim and I made some severely lameoid clapper comedy.  And the lady in the corner who was steering her mother-she saw where I was going and she chimed in with some foolishness and we smiled. I shuffled over to the registration and more foolishness for that guy. We passed a TV set blasting The View and I said: Shut up Whoopie. For my own amusement. 

We got to see yet another in my blastastic team of doctors and I had to ask some anatomical questions and he turns looking for a legal pad possibly maybe and I say, you don't have puppets?


---------

I don't feel okay yet. I got some bad ass painkillers. Things take time.


------------










5 comments:

  1. Alice was treated that way throughout. Even after she died...nothing. Not even a Hallmark When You Care Enough To Send The Very Least. Lipo docs are the opposite. Elective surgery versus lifesaving? Maybe?

    ReplyDelete
  2. Alice was a queen. They don't know how to deal with royalty.
    I have more on this. I can only sit and type for a little bit. Gives me time to sort things out. : )

    ReplyDelete
  3. You're welcome to peruse the wide selection of boots in front of your door if you ever have a shoemergency.

    ReplyDelete
  4. That should read "our" door... man I've had way tooo much coffee today...

    ReplyDelete
  5. Can I use your shoes to chuck at the heads of the tuck pointers?

    ReplyDelete