Don’t need surgery during the holidays

The stupid umbilical-hernia I have “acted” up yesterday and was bad enough for me to go to the clinic. The clinic sent me to the emergency room at Evergreen. They said I needed surgery but they “thought” I could make it through the holidays – as the specialist surgeons were all on vacation. They took a blood sample and said my white-blood cell count was normal (implying no infection? I’m amazingly uneducated in medical crap). They gave me some antibiotics with a long list of “come immediately back if … happens”. Run time – 5 hours. Which included sitting alone in an emergency examine room for 1.5 hours waiting for blood work.

The new emergency wing at Evergreen is pretty nice. I didn’t know where it was at first so I went to out-patient registration. After helping the nice lady from Bulgaria learn English (reassuringly “Press # if you’re a hospital” was beyond her English capabilities) I followed the Red signs to Emergency.

There was a lady with a broken leg (skiing). There was a little girl with what looked like an ax wound to the forehead (ah, kids). And there was some fucking lunatic who, I don’t think anyone (including him) could figure out why he was there. But, all in all, it was very organized and I got my wrist band in 20 minutes. Nothing like a bar code to make you feel special.

The nurse/phlebotomist tapped my vain with surprising ease/speed. This always reminds me of one of my old room-mates. When I first lived in Seattle (over 17 years ago, before I was a tech-geek – just a cook/waiter) I ended up with a bunch of heroin addicts for room mates. The chief needle-queen among them was a phlebotomist. Which always kind of cracked me up. Unfortunately, heroin addicts are like cockroaches, they’re very hard to get rid of. I eventually just left the landlord a note “good luck” and left. They were nice enough – just not so good at paying rent.

The most annoying thing about the whole day was picking up the antibiotics. I have no tolerance for anything corporate and stupid. Walgreens specializes in both with the added bonus of a ridiculously over-lit store (they should just give you nuclear-blast glasses when entering). Add to that not just Christmas music but the worst Christmas music on earth. Every other person is over 90 years old (employees included) and 90% of their products are so stupid/vain/useless that they are a poster child for materialism run rampant. All the pharmacists surely got barely passing grades in English. If I hadn’t been in such a terrible mood the stark raving lunatic asking the Chinese pharmacist “Can I mix this with cocaine? Just joking. [pause] I already did that.” might have been amusing. He was also the only person not just signing along with the Christmas music, but belting it out as though he were at a Broadway audition. I, of course, was fantasizing about sawed off shot guns and trying as hard as I could to not just go postal.

1.5 hours of this hell – for some retard to count out 14 pills. For fucks sake.

As annoying as this whole process was – at least I’m not recovering from surgery done by a “non-specialist” today.

1 Comment

mattDecember 23rd, 2007 at 6:42 pm

Glad to hear you’re good for the time being. So, if it was an emergency, I wonder whether they’d have had a foot surgeon do your operation just because he was available, or bring in one of the specialists from vacation.