Posts Tagged 'workman’s comp'

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.

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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.”