A bit of an odyssey.
February 23rd.
I wake up in the morning, knowing that I have a doctor's appointment I've been dreading for quite a while now at 2:40. Normally, doctor's appt's really aren't my thing. And this time it really wasn't my thing. I woke up with a heartbeat of around 120, and couldn't seem to get any work done at all, or concentrate on anything. I took a long walk. Sent a fax I'd been meaning to send. Had two doughnuts. Walked back. I tried to distract myself so awkwardly that I even took a tour of a condo across from my place. I watched most of Caddyshack. Finally, time to drive to the hospital. So I get there, park, go up to the floor, check in, and wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
An hour after my appointment time, somebody calls me back. They sit me down. "What seems to be the problem." "..." "I see, and where's that?" "..." "Where?" "...!" "Oh, I don't know why they sent you here, this is [the wrong area] surgery. You want [the right clinic]." "!!!" "I'm sorry, we'll see if we can get you in today."
My blood was beginning to boil.
"Sorry, that clinic is only open on Wednesdays. You'll have to come back next week."
I think my particular utterance of "Goddammit" was audible from Yuma, Arizona. Very pissed. All worked up for nothing. Turns out the person who booked my appointment deleted a particularly crucial word in the description of my condition. Wrong clinic. I was hella mad.
Feb. 25
Moving day. Moving from here to here. It was probably the easiest move of my life. Thanks to Math Rock and the Turtle, we got all of my crap loaded into a (rather small) truck, drove to the new place, and unloaded everything in a grand total of an hour and a half. Had time to shop for records before getting some burgers that night. Tasty. Actually, I figured it out. In the last eight months there has only been one leg of a move (either a loading or an unloading) that was particularly problematic. And the only outstanding variable, I think, knows who he is.
Feb. 28
With my new doctor's appointment only a day away, I decided that I had to do a little self-distraction again. Started by unpacking most of my boxes and putting stuff on shelves, etc. Then, Ikea.
Ikea amazes me. It's one of those places that just works so bloody well, you like to like it. Drive up, it's warm and inviting. Walk around, really cheap, attractive furniture. Kickin' tunes on the stereo. A cheap, but also good, cafe. Anything you want. It's right there. But then I started thinking that Ikea really is a lot like a casino. I mean, they've totally organized the store to keep a single demographic in the store. The music, for instance. Virtually all 80s pop. Now, that appeals to young Gen-Xers like me, older Gen-Yers, and older Gen-Xers, all of whom have some sort of experience of that stuff with in their childhood. And are most likely to a) be buying a house for the first time with the need to buy tons of furniture, b) have young children that need extra stuff, c) have oodles of disposable income. In addition, like a casino, Ikea is set up like a labrynth. It's impossible to get out of there without some cool thing catching your eye. Also, like a casino, they keep you fed cheaply, so that you are more pleasantly satiated and ready to purchase. It's diabolical.
Anyway, I ended up buying some new tupperware (desperately needed), a frame for something I've been wanting to hang on my wall, and the chair.
After that, I dropped about 60 bucks on groceries, came back and put the chair together, and watched the first hour of Metropolis, which I hadn't seen before, but which was strangely hypnotic and interesting. It's really too bad that so much of the film has been lost, but it's stunning, visually. Probably the most amazing visual statement I've ever seen. Which brings us to
March 1.
Real doctor's appointment. Get there. Check in (which took longer than last time; there was something of a line). I didn't have to wait hardly at all. So I go back, get all checked out. Thoroughly examined. Looks like surgery is on tap for me. But, according to the doc, I don't have to do it until the summer, which is a huge bonus. Sweet. Treated myself to lunch at the City Deli, and have since been doing a little work. In my new chair. In my new apartment.
I wake up in the morning, knowing that I have a doctor's appointment I've been dreading for quite a while now at 2:40. Normally, doctor's appt's really aren't my thing. And this time it really wasn't my thing. I woke up with a heartbeat of around 120, and couldn't seem to get any work done at all, or concentrate on anything. I took a long walk. Sent a fax I'd been meaning to send. Had two doughnuts. Walked back. I tried to distract myself so awkwardly that I even took a tour of a condo across from my place. I watched most of Caddyshack. Finally, time to drive to the hospital. So I get there, park, go up to the floor, check in, and wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
An hour after my appointment time, somebody calls me back. They sit me down. "What seems to be the problem." "..." "I see, and where's that?" "..." "Where?" "...!" "Oh, I don't know why they sent you here, this is [the wrong area] surgery. You want [the right clinic]." "!!!" "I'm sorry, we'll see if we can get you in today."
My blood was beginning to boil.
"Sorry, that clinic is only open on Wednesdays. You'll have to come back next week."
I think my particular utterance of "Goddammit" was audible from Yuma, Arizona. Very pissed. All worked up for nothing. Turns out the person who booked my appointment deleted a particularly crucial word in the description of my condition. Wrong clinic. I was hella mad.
Feb. 25
Moving day. Moving from here to here. It was probably the easiest move of my life. Thanks to Math Rock and the Turtle, we got all of my crap loaded into a (rather small) truck, drove to the new place, and unloaded everything in a grand total of an hour and a half. Had time to shop for records before getting some burgers that night. Tasty. Actually, I figured it out. In the last eight months there has only been one leg of a move (either a loading or an unloading) that was particularly problematic. And the only outstanding variable, I think, knows who he is.
Feb. 28
With my new doctor's appointment only a day away, I decided that I had to do a little self-distraction again. Started by unpacking most of my boxes and putting stuff on shelves, etc. Then, Ikea.
Ikea amazes me. It's one of those places that just works so bloody well, you like to like it. Drive up, it's warm and inviting. Walk around, really cheap, attractive furniture. Kickin' tunes on the stereo. A cheap, but also good, cafe. Anything you want. It's right there. But then I started thinking that Ikea really is a lot like a casino. I mean, they've totally organized the store to keep a single demographic in the store. The music, for instance. Virtually all 80s pop. Now, that appeals to young Gen-Xers like me, older Gen-Yers, and older Gen-Xers, all of whom have some sort of experience of that stuff with in their childhood. And are most likely to a) be buying a house for the first time with the need to buy tons of furniture, b) have young children that need extra stuff, c) have oodles of disposable income. In addition, like a casino, Ikea is set up like a labrynth. It's impossible to get out of there without some cool thing catching your eye. Also, like a casino, they keep you fed cheaply, so that you are more pleasantly satiated and ready to purchase. It's diabolical.
Anyway, I ended up buying some new tupperware (desperately needed), a frame for something I've been wanting to hang on my wall, and the chair.
After that, I dropped about 60 bucks on groceries, came back and put the chair together, and watched the first hour of Metropolis, which I hadn't seen before, but which was strangely hypnotic and interesting. It's really too bad that so much of the film has been lost, but it's stunning, visually. Probably the most amazing visual statement I've ever seen. Which brings us to
March 1.
Real doctor's appointment. Get there. Check in (which took longer than last time; there was something of a line). I didn't have to wait hardly at all. So I go back, get all checked out. Thoroughly examined. Looks like surgery is on tap for me. But, according to the doc, I don't have to do it until the summer, which is a huge bonus. Sweet. Treated myself to lunch at the City Deli, and have since been doing a little work. In my new chair. In my new apartment.
posted by dd0031 at 3:05 PM
1 Comments:
I feel your pain on the quitting caffeine bit -- is this related to the surgery? (And what the heck kind of surgery is it? I suppose that's sort of a personal question to ask, so feel free *not* to respond...)
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