Since last sunday, that makes it a week and a half to this point, i have been going through various stages of ill.
i dont understand it, its like the slowest asynchronous progressing cold EVER.
i think i have discovered a new strain of herfisitis. the old strain which was only spread through the epicenter of the disease was painful enough as it is. i guess this strain lay dormant in my body for 5 years (since the last known herfisitis outbreak) and mutated into the new strain, herfisitis slowcoccal 1a.
no i am not a doctor, and yes, fuck you.
now being sick for almost a week (my symptoms included intense pain, and feelings of hot and cold, and intense rage) i decided it might be a good idea to see the doctor. now my doctor is my family doctor, and his client base is 99% old people, and then me.
being 23 years old, i often do not suffer from things liek menopause, arthritis, oldness, things that require colonoscopies, i do not take lipitor daily, nor do i care to. but my doctor feels it necessary to diagnose and treat me like i was an 85 year old woman with 2 hip replacements, and boobs to the ankles. so as you can tell i hate going there… but alas, i had no choice lets go. i get there, he looks me over, takes my temperature, tells me to take a couple of advil as needed, and itll pass… oh and by the way, ge ta chest x ray this afternoon.
A WHAT?
a chest xray…
i have a cold… no i dont even have a cold, you can’t even figure out whats wrong with me?!
yea, but you should get one…
what is it about me? do i have a sign that says bombard my pasty ass with more radiation so i can get a tan or face cancer? maybe i do…
besides who doesnt have time on a thursday afternoon to just get a chest xray… thats like a medical procedure, thats not like ordering chinese food.
anyways, ok, so i get a lift to the “medical district” which is conveniently located next to a timmy’s, sweet i thought, tim hortons for me after the face cancer.
i step into the building, at a decent pace, and immediately as i am through the first set of doors, my walk GRINDS to a halt.. 3 old ladies with walkers, trying to figure out why the metal cages they are holding dont walk for them, 2 old men trying to figure out their winter coats, and one old guy trying to open the door.
finally i go in the out. good evasion of old people traffic, a clean maneuver, no one had to be bowled over. into the mezzanine i go, picking up pace, and SCREEEEEEECHHHHHH abs , boots slide… OLD PEOPLE TRAFFIC JAM. is this the place where they send old people to die? it must be, because they have a small feedery, and droves of old people, some so old they must have been around during the american civil war. anyhoo, they all have one goal, the elevator. the building in question has 2 bustedass old elevators, that when in motion move about as fast as old people drive. did i mention they both smell like pee and mothballs?
X-rays, 3rd floor… contrary to popular belief I am not 85, and I don’t have rickets, so stairs, to the 3rd floor, no problemo. I foot it. I get my number, and I sit, and wait. I pick a corner off on the side, where no one would need to be. Keep in mind the waiting room is empty.
DING
The elevator of oldness has arrived. In walks the ENTIRE 60 people that were waiting for the lifts in the mezzanine, that’s when I thought to myself, if there are other offices here, how come… how come all of them want face cancer?
Of course, the first one in, sits down right next to me, as the smell of impending death, and mothballs (to preserve what life is left) invades my nasal passage, they call my number, so I get up do the papers, and am told to sit down. So I sit in another corner of the empty waiting room, away from everyone. Then they call the lady death to the counter, she does her papers, really slowly and all shaking like, and comes to sit down, obviously not understanding the incredibly not so subtle hint I dropped, and she parks her old ass right next to me again, my saving grace, was that the clinic was trying to move as many people through the radiation as possible on that particular day. So they call my number.
I go in, the nurse hands me a gown… tells me to take off everything from the waist up. I get in the booth (it’s a 2X3 box) I smash my elbows a few times, resulting in the lady in the next booth having a heart attack. I manage to somewhat put the gown on. I didn’t know these stupid things only come in one size, “old†my shoulders don’t droop, I have a 56†chest, and a 3 foot wide lat spread, I don’t fit in a gown designed to contain old people flab. I find the nurse, and I ask her if she can give me a second one so I can fashion a proper fitting gown out of the two “only one per patient†was her response. Fine. Fuck it, I leave it open, I don’t give a fuck.
I get my inards photographed and I am off on my merry way, to await pick up.
i head out to timmy’s get me a croisant, and a veloutim (yea they are like crack)
im sitting sipping my coffee, in walks the old people.
the woman, she sits down across the way from me, and the husband waits in line.
he comes with the tray, containing two cups of coffee (anyone see anything strange yet? neither do i)
“WHY DID YOU GET TWO CUPS? whats wrong with you, i dont want a whole cup of coffee… why are these cups so big?! what the hell did you do that for, how much did it cost you?! (if you are unawares, tim hortons coffee, is like a dollar for the big ones…)
and on she goes. FUCK YOU LADY, SHUTUP DRINK YOUR COFFEE AND SAY THANK YOU TO YOUR HUSBAND FOR BRINGING YOU SOMETHING TO WARM YOU UP ON A SHITTY ASS COLD DAY LIKE THIS, AND THANK HIM AGAIN FOR SOMEHOW PUTTING UP WITH THE FACT THAT YOU ARE A TOTAL FUCKING BITCH FOR THE 85 YEARS YOU HAVE BEEN MARRIED!”
goddamit
my mother comes to get me, she waits in the parking lot. (which note is mostly empty) in a spot not overy close to the door, but i dont mind, im young, and strong, in pain, but strong. all of a sudden the honking starts. this old man in his corolla wants the spot that my mother has, not the one right in front of the door, not one of the other thousand open spots in the lot… he wants THIS one, and he wants it NOW… so i take my time heading over there, i open the passenger door, inspect the outside of the car, purposely taking time, judging by the guy, i figured he had about 5 minutes left to live, and so i thought i would take that long to get in the car. let me tell you, and take this as a warning, any old people that may read this: had my mother not been there, i would have put my boot through his windshield, and beat him to death with his equally old bag of a wife.
lessons learned from this adventure: x-rays give face cancer (its a fact, you read it on the intarnets)
old people smell like death and mothballs.
if you honk at me, while i am in pain of any kind, ESPECIALLY if you are old, i will probably injure you fatally.