Posts Tagged 'doc-in-the-box'

Sphinxy’s new address: Hell

Sis and I just moved out of Mom and Dad’s to live on our own. LOVE our new home.  And Maimer is very happy with it.  However, I have run into one of the worst stretches of bad luck I have ever known.  Within days of moving in, Maimer’s bladder problems returned worse than ever.  I took her in only to find out she had bladder stones and needed to be operated on.  The bill came to… (are you sitting down?)  ONE THOUSAND FREAKIN DOLLARS!  Sigh.  There goes the computer I was hoping to buy.  And the cable tv.  And high-speed internet.  And groceries.
So Maimer is recooping and acting like she feels better than ever when I come down with a horrendous cold flu.  I’ve been sick for a whole week: like feverish, achy, sinusy, coughy, insomniac, everything.  So I call in sick for the fourth day in a row and the Shiz (my boss lady) says, great because you HAVE to come in tomorrow because everyone is sick and you ALL need to be here or there will be no one in Circulation.
So I show up for work the next day, voiceless, coughing until I gag, all that good stuff.  Caffeine Chick (hawaiian_jew) is in approximately the same condition.  Jeckyll has no discernable symptoms, but goes on and on about how she doesn’t feel well and will be going home as soon as we can spare her.  Chicky and I look at each other through our respective fever-induced hazes and we’re like WTF??
Meanwhile, Maimer is no longer doing so well.  She’s always licking her incision and upon closer inspection, I see it’s swollen, oozy and (EW?!?) STINKY!!!  So vet says she’s gotta come in TODAY.  So I’m dying, helping patrons that look horrified to be sharing the same air as me and on my lunch break, instead of resting or, say, eating?  I’m taking the cat to the vet to have her STAPLES removed. *gag*  So it turns out that each and every one of Maimer’s staples has twisted around INSIDE her stomach and FESTERED.  The vet first had to STRAIGHTEN THEM OUT before removing them.  Now Maim is on antibiotics.  Another bill.  And as an added bonus, I get to wrestle this blue horse pill down Maim’s throat every day for the next week.
Okay, by the time I get back to work, I am not doing so well.  My face is on fire with fever and it feels like there’s a knife in my left ear.  Jeckyll is still talking about LEAVING.  And to add to it, Dylan and Leslie walk by every now and then, telling me I can’t die before I go to our roleplaying game tonight (a special session, which we anticipate going until 4 or 5 am).  I’m starting to get panicky and really really pissed.  I finally tell Jeckyll I don’t think ANYONE should leave because we’re ALL just as SICK.  Jeckyll stops talking to me.  I go in the back room to sulk and finally eat lunch (at 3 pm).  Dylan and Leslie are on their break.  I vent on them until they say, you and Tripleshot go home now, YS and Reference will handle it!  So Caffeine Chick and I go up to Jeckyll together and say, bye we’re leaving.  And we walked out, Chicky murmuring something about “Mutiny on the Bounty.”
I bet you wish that was the end.  Oh, so do I, my friend, so do I.  Alas, I then went straight to a doc-in-the-box to find out if I’m safe to go to an all-nighter game.  I remember I still have my lunch leftovers with me in the car and it’s a hot day, so I carry the leftovers in with me.  Actually, first I stop into my regular doctor’s office to see if they have any openings.  They don’t, so I just take my walmart bag full of hot dog and relish and dasani and I go down the street.
You know how I feel about skeezy walk-in medicine, so I won’t bore you with a description.  Nothing has changed except the list of “dirty” countries, which now has two handwritten additions: Iraq and Nigeria.  Who knew.  Anyways, I wait so long (over an hour), that I’ve fallen asleep on my crinkly walmart bag by the time someone calls my name.  But it is not to admit me, no.  It’s to send me across town to their other branch which has no waiting.  Oh but wait, it takes me ANOTHER HOUR, just battling rush hour traffic to get out there!  And then I’m driving around the Krispy Kreme parking lot forever, looking for the place, calling home and alternately swearing and crying on the phone with Sis as she gives me directions.
So long long long story short, I find it, I’m admitted and…. I HAVE STREP!!  WITH A 100 DEGREE FEVER!!!  DAMN LIBRARY!!!!
Needless to say, I miss the special game session and anything else fun for the next week. I’m pissed, I’m bummed and I have to buy all new toothbrushes and toothpaste because apparently those are teeming streptococcal party-zones. Who’s “dirty” now?

Skeeze revisited

Back at the doc-in-the-box for my follow-up workman’s comp visit. This time, the waiting area is packed, with a new Phlegmy Bohemian Youth, this one accompanied by Distant Parent, or Sudoku-Obsessed Man. Also making an appearance are Soulless Marketing Career Man with More Money to be Made Elsewhere, Depressed Young Mother with Infant, Woman Whose Incessant Coughing Sounds Like Sobs, and Chinless Obese Woman Snoring with Open-Mouthed Abandon on the couch.

Play-by-play: The TV is blaring a cartoon that not only no one appears to be watching, but whose demographic is completely unrepresented in the room. Retrieving my dropped water bottle gives me the undesirable opportunity to inspect the carpet stains. Depressed Young Mother with Infant and Phlegmy Bohemian Youth are each admitted and quickly replaced with a new Depressed Mother with Infant and yet another PBY with guardian.

Oh yeah. Waiting time this visit? Two hours. Two hours of mobile solitaire and inhaling airborne pathogens ferocious enough to make it all the way here from Indonesia. I’ll keep you updated on how my avian flu progresses.

Workman’s Comp in 12 Easy Steps… Library Edition!

This is the Workman’s Comp in 12 Easy Steps… Library Edition!

Step 1: If you don’t have one already, get a job in a library.

Step 2: At your (new) library job, injure yourself in a stupid way, say, by falling out of your shoe.

Step 3: Fill out a workman’s comp form.

Step 4: Find where they keep the workman’s comp forms, then complete Step Three.

Step 5: See a physician.

Step 6: Discover your regular doctor is unavailable because you put off the dreaded appointment until the weekend, when the only legitimate health professionals open are the emergency room and the walk-in “doc-in-the-box.”

Step 7: Complete Step Five by going to the damn doc-in-the-box.

Step 8: But first, shave your legs for once, you slob.

Step 9: Try not to catch SARS or the bird flu while waiting your turn behind the Phlegmy Bohemian Youth and the Harried Mother With A Billion Snot-Nosed Kids.

Step 10: Get chewed out by a “doctor” with unprofessionally casual wear, heavy accent and open contempt for American youth. See the errors of your ways in having stuck it out at work and postponed medical attention as well as having ever picked out, bought or worn shoes that are so easy to fall out of. Leave feeling less of a person in general.

Step 11: (Almost there!) Get saddled–I mean fitted with an ankle brace to be worn constantly for the next week. “Forget” to ask whether or not it must be worn even to bed. (What you don’t know you’re not responsible for.)

Step 12: Hobble around work for the next week, fishing for sympathy, which you garner in truckloads. (It’s the comp time that doesn’t appear forthcoming.) Try not to think about going back to the grumpy foreign doc-in-the-box at the end of the week.

You did it! Now don’t do it again.

The skeeze factor of walk-in medicine

At the doc-in-the-box for my workman’s comp injury and I look over and see this sign:

If you are planning travel out of the country for the Lunar New Year, Please read the following:

That’s it. The rest of the sign was blank.

What is this Lunar New Year that requires people to travel out of the country after not reading anything? I’ve never felt so out of a loop that appeared to have nothing in it in the first place.

That’s when I was distracted by this sign:

If you have been to any of the countries, listed below, and have a fever with a cough, sore throat, or trouble breathing, PLEASE ask for a mask and let the receptionist know. THANK YOU.

(Cue juicy sneeze from guy next to me.)

Below it was a list of over a dozen countries I never thought of visiting before but now have them mentally filed under “dirty.”