Bad Times Timelion... Part 3
So, the security guy who looks a bit like the ice cream vendor in Friday, with the slightest of muscle twitch turns it into a full blown glare.
Like I want to get eyeballed and intimidated (is that what he was doing?) when I'm walking my wife to the emergency room. For all he knows I could be walking her to her deathbed. Meanwhile, there's all these signs saying stuff like "They may not remember what you say, but they'll remember how you say it, customer service with a smile."
I glance back over my shoulder, and this guy is still eyeballing me like I was a known shoplifter brousing in Sachs Fifth Avenue. WTF? I ask for the 20th time this day.
We get to the room, and all that germaphobia goes away. There are no coughing roommates, no feverish clan of mexicans nearby, and no recovering from blubonic plague nurses. It's a clean sanitary room, they use for labors and deliveries. Wow. Greg Focker number 2, stresses to me because we have a newborn we should probably be segregated from the masses. You don't say.
By the way, all the nurses we dealt with in this same hospital upstairs in Labor and Delivery and elsewhere were lightyears better at customer service and seemed to have 40 points on IQ better than the folks at the E.R. So, I'm not slamming all nurses, just these particular nurses who were in the E.R. that night.
We get a nurse who's nice, but every time we ask her a question she gives us an answer that maybe has a loose connection to the question but only in the most circumspect fashion possible. It was enfuriating. Made worse because she was so nice, it was almost like she was stoned out of her mind. Maybe she was. For example this was our typical interchange:
I ask, "She's lost a lot of blood. Is she in any immediate danger?"
"Well, she just had a baby a little over a week ago... So, there is some bleeding immediately after that happens."
"... Yes, she bled and that stopped and all of sudden she's bleeding again a week later. Is there any immediate danger."
"Well, you see you bleed for a few days after the pregnancy. Mmm--hmmm."
"... Okay, what about the bleeding... that's taking place right now, that's happening right now, is this a normal complication?"
"Some people bleed a lot right after they have the baby. And that is normal. In the first couple of days. Totally normal."
"... okay (?). So... normal in the first few days and I guess you don't know about 10 days later."
"Oh, no. I know," she says very assuredly.
"You know if this is common complication or not?"
"Well, sir, your wife's lost a lot of blood and she gave birth over a week ago."
"...I know"
"Okay. Good, I'm going to get some gauze."
Then, we get the E.R. doctor, and if I could describe a gentleman I'd least like to examine my wife's goods it would be this guy. I mean in advance if I worked with a police sketch artist drawing what I imagined this guy would be captured by the end of a newscast. There he was, 5 foot 10 inches of board certified pedophile. Thin, greasy combover from a 1970s cop movie, thick, thick bifoculs, an odd array of pockmarks, and what looked like a tan-line stache, a curious facial feature which was basically a bushy discoloration where a porn stache once festered (?) or the oddest of natural birthmarks, and of course as I was taking measure of this man, he snapped his latex glove like a cliche from a bad movie.
However, he was nice and a gentleman. Not his fault his lookalikes line the walls of post offices. My poor wife though, she has a female doctor because she doesn't feel comfortable with strange men examining her junk. A fear, I think, we all share. And now, she was staring at the epitome of a strange man.
Afterward, he looked at me pretty sternly and proffered this valuable piece of information, "What I'm concerned about is your wife has lost a lot of blood, and is still losing blood. Okay?"
I nod thinking "...yeh... that's why we're here."
He arches an eyebrow like he probably does while seated in a darkened van with shag carpeting holding a box of nerds for a five year old outside an arcade. Then he asks again, "O...kay?"
Didn't you see me nod? "O-kay" I'll take the candy.
And like that he was gone.
It was like St. Nick vanished up the chimney. My wife and I look at each other like WTF?
Then nothing. I sit there wishing I had my laptop and the hospital had wireless internet access. It had neither or so they said. Then, as I wander the halls looking for a vending machine. I see a nurse on the internet. Maybe it was through a satellite card but I was envious. So what if it was a mac. I know a site that you can play poker on a mac. Oh well, I stews
A few hours go by. Again, trying not to be graphic but I'd fail... so avert your eyes squeamish folks, the E.R. bed my wife is in is starting to look like a scene from a M.A.S.H. unit. Rationality takes over... they aren't going to let her bleed to death. This must be okay. This must be somewhat standard.
Suddenly, creepy doctor is at the foot of her bed looking at us both. My wife and I exchange looks like "I didn't hear him come in--did you?"
He notices the sheets, "Yes, you are losing a lot of blood. My concern is... blood loss. That's what you should be worried about. O-kay?"
I nod. Think better of it, and step between the doctor and the door and say, "Okaybutwhatarewearewegoingtodoaboutit?"
"Well, there's a lot of blood loss, so that means something is causing her to lose all this blood," he arches the eyebrow again, is he about to warp out again I wonder? He continues.. "O...kay?"
He's one of those people that can't finish a simple sentence without asking Okay, it's like they have to make sure you heard and understood even the simplest sentence. I give him the benefit of the doubt considering he has to work with all these E.R. nurses that probably try to put their scrub tops on their legs some mornings.
I determine to say okay, before he can ask me it. It fails. Instead I merely answer the question before he asks it, and yet he still asks it and wants me to answer it again. Damn it, you pedophile lookalike you've outsmarted me in civil discourse.
So, to review. We headed to the E.R. because my wife suffered a ton of blood loss. It took a while for the nurses to grasp that, then hours later the doctor figures that out and now wants us to understand that. OKAY!
"So now what?!?" I ask.
"Maybe an ultrasound..." with the inflection of a question.
"Okay, an ultra-s..."
"Okay?"
"Okay... so she's getting an ultrasound."
"Yes, that will be twenty minutes..."
"Okay."
"Twenty minutes, O..kay"
"Okay!"
And in a blink of an eye, the mere slightest of moments when my wife and I look at each other like is this really happening, the dude vanishes again. It's was like he was our own personal Doctor from Deep Throat (with a tan stache) Lepruchan.
So we head to the Ultrasound...
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Like I want to get eyeballed and intimidated (is that what he was doing?) when I'm walking my wife to the emergency room. For all he knows I could be walking her to her deathbed. Meanwhile, there's all these signs saying stuff like "They may not remember what you say, but they'll remember how you say it, customer service with a smile."
I glance back over my shoulder, and this guy is still eyeballing me like I was a known shoplifter brousing in Sachs Fifth Avenue. WTF? I ask for the 20th time this day.
We get to the room, and all that germaphobia goes away. There are no coughing roommates, no feverish clan of mexicans nearby, and no recovering from blubonic plague nurses. It's a clean sanitary room, they use for labors and deliveries. Wow. Greg Focker number 2, stresses to me because we have a newborn we should probably be segregated from the masses. You don't say.
By the way, all the nurses we dealt with in this same hospital upstairs in Labor and Delivery and elsewhere were lightyears better at customer service and seemed to have 40 points on IQ better than the folks at the E.R. So, I'm not slamming all nurses, just these particular nurses who were in the E.R. that night.
We get a nurse who's nice, but every time we ask her a question she gives us an answer that maybe has a loose connection to the question but only in the most circumspect fashion possible. It was enfuriating. Made worse because she was so nice, it was almost like she was stoned out of her mind. Maybe she was. For example this was our typical interchange:
I ask, "She's lost a lot of blood. Is she in any immediate danger?"
"Well, she just had a baby a little over a week ago... So, there is some bleeding immediately after that happens."
"... Yes, she bled and that stopped and all of sudden she's bleeding again a week later. Is there any immediate danger."
"Well, you see you bleed for a few days after the pregnancy. Mmm--hmmm."
"... Okay, what about the bleeding... that's taking place right now, that's happening right now, is this a normal complication?"
"Some people bleed a lot right after they have the baby. And that is normal. In the first couple of days. Totally normal."
"... okay (?). So... normal in the first few days and I guess you don't know about 10 days later."
"Oh, no. I know," she says very assuredly.
"You know if this is common complication or not?"
"Well, sir, your wife's lost a lot of blood and she gave birth over a week ago."
"...I know"
"Okay. Good, I'm going to get some gauze."
Then, we get the E.R. doctor, and if I could describe a gentleman I'd least like to examine my wife's goods it would be this guy. I mean in advance if I worked with a police sketch artist drawing what I imagined this guy would be captured by the end of a newscast. There he was, 5 foot 10 inches of board certified pedophile. Thin, greasy combover from a 1970s cop movie, thick, thick bifoculs, an odd array of pockmarks, and what looked like a tan-line stache, a curious facial feature which was basically a bushy discoloration where a porn stache once festered (?) or the oddest of natural birthmarks, and of course as I was taking measure of this man, he snapped his latex glove like a cliche from a bad movie.
However, he was nice and a gentleman. Not his fault his lookalikes line the walls of post offices. My poor wife though, she has a female doctor because she doesn't feel comfortable with strange men examining her junk. A fear, I think, we all share. And now, she was staring at the epitome of a strange man.
Afterward, he looked at me pretty sternly and proffered this valuable piece of information, "What I'm concerned about is your wife has lost a lot of blood, and is still losing blood. Okay?"
I nod thinking "...yeh... that's why we're here."
He arches an eyebrow like he probably does while seated in a darkened van with shag carpeting holding a box of nerds for a five year old outside an arcade. Then he asks again, "O...kay?"
Didn't you see me nod? "O-kay" I'll take the candy.
And like that he was gone.
It was like St. Nick vanished up the chimney. My wife and I look at each other like WTF?
Then nothing. I sit there wishing I had my laptop and the hospital had wireless internet access. It had neither or so they said. Then, as I wander the halls looking for a vending machine. I see a nurse on the internet. Maybe it was through a satellite card but I was envious. So what if it was a mac. I know a site that you can play poker on a mac. Oh well, I stews
A few hours go by. Again, trying not to be graphic but I'd fail... so avert your eyes squeamish folks, the E.R. bed my wife is in is starting to look like a scene from a M.A.S.H. unit. Rationality takes over... they aren't going to let her bleed to death. This must be okay. This must be somewhat standard.
Suddenly, creepy doctor is at the foot of her bed looking at us both. My wife and I exchange looks like "I didn't hear him come in--did you?"
He notices the sheets, "Yes, you are losing a lot of blood. My concern is... blood loss. That's what you should be worried about. O-kay?"
I nod. Think better of it, and step between the doctor and the door and say, "Okaybutwhatarewearewegoingtodoaboutit?"
"Well, there's a lot of blood loss, so that means something is causing her to lose all this blood," he arches the eyebrow again, is he about to warp out again I wonder? He continues.. "O...kay?"
He's one of those people that can't finish a simple sentence without asking Okay, it's like they have to make sure you heard and understood even the simplest sentence. I give him the benefit of the doubt considering he has to work with all these E.R. nurses that probably try to put their scrub tops on their legs some mornings.
I determine to say okay, before he can ask me it. It fails. Instead I merely answer the question before he asks it, and yet he still asks it and wants me to answer it again. Damn it, you pedophile lookalike you've outsmarted me in civil discourse.
So, to review. We headed to the E.R. because my wife suffered a ton of blood loss. It took a while for the nurses to grasp that, then hours later the doctor figures that out and now wants us to understand that. OKAY!
"So now what?!?" I ask.
"Maybe an ultrasound..." with the inflection of a question.
"Okay, an ultra-s..."
"Okay?"
"Okay... so she's getting an ultrasound."
"Yes, that will be twenty minutes..."
"Okay."
"Twenty minutes, O..kay"
"Okay!"
And in a blink of an eye, the mere slightest of moments when my wife and I look at each other like is this really happening, the dude vanishes again. It's was like he was our own personal Doctor from Deep Throat (with a tan stache) Lepruchan.
So we head to the Ultrasound...
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