(*where I received a tentative bill of clean health. I still have the cold that never ends [yes it goes on and on my friends] but no major worries. Check ups to follow.)
First. I'm all for mainstreaming the disabled or the slightly disabled, but please, don't assign the hard of hearing triage nurse to the front desk. Surely there must be a better place for her. Like paging doctors. Without an intercom.
"OK SARAH, AND WHAT ARE YOU HERE FOR?"
*cough* "Well, see I've been having some unusual *hand motions* down south, and, uh.... yeah. How specific do I need to be?"
"EXCESSIVE VAGINAL BLEEDING?"
"Yeah, that, and other stuff ........ like, um, excessive redness to the face ......... now."
"HAVE A SEAT, WE'LL HAVE SOMEONE CALL YOUR NAME IN A MINUTE."
"Could it be a code name? .......... No? Ok."
Second. The nurse who did my bloodwork was quick, efficient and generally very lovely. (A bit fond of waving the vials of my own blood in my face, which is bad, not that it scares me. I'm very calm as I observe my own blood, and then observe that the floor is about to slap me in the forehead. All of you who are wondering why I never became a vet, there's your answer. Me + blood = very sudden nap.)
But perhaps doing bloodwork isn't the best line of work for someone with a pronounced Eastern European accent.
"Ok, ve need just vone more vial of your blaaaaad."
"You do WORK here, right? I mean, we are in a hallway, and my doctor didn't mention this....."
I did really enjoy the orderly who pushed me down to my ultrasound. He said his habit of speedwalking was responsible for an entire new hospital policy on how fast you were allowed to push a patient. A speed limit, in effect.
And I had the Lamborghini of orderlies. I made sure to tell him I was proud of him.
The doctor who did my ultrasound was mercifully quick, bless his heart. He made sure the goo he smeared on my tummy was warm. You'd think it would have occurred to him that heated goo would have been even nicer when it came time for the inter-vaginal camera wand ultrasound thingamajig, but *shrug* he was in a hurry, no doubt for my sake.
He told me I have a very bright endometrial band, so I nodded primly and said thank you. (When in doubt, take it as a compliment, that's rule #4 when dealing with men.)
(Incidentally, I love that spell-check was not familiar with the word "endometrial" but had no issue with "thingamajig.")
Lastly, my nurse's name was Ulysses. That alone rocks. Also, he told me it was his medical opinion that I should avoid the hospital dinner, because tonight was tuna night.
One last suggestion for the hospital.
NEVER, EVER run out of stickers. It's an essential part of medical care, as far as I'm concerned. Anyone who is elbow deep in my ladybits had better give me either a sticker or a phone number.
Don't you agree?
First. I'm all for mainstreaming the disabled or the slightly disabled, but please, don't assign the hard of hearing triage nurse to the front desk. Surely there must be a better place for her. Like paging doctors. Without an intercom.
"OK SARAH, AND WHAT ARE YOU HERE FOR?"
*cough* "Well, see I've been having some unusual *hand motions* down south, and, uh.... yeah. How specific do I need to be?"
"EXCESSIVE VAGINAL BLEEDING?"
"Yeah, that, and other stuff ........ like, um, excessive redness to the face ......... now."
"HAVE A SEAT, WE'LL HAVE SOMEONE CALL YOUR NAME IN A MINUTE."
"Could it be a code name? .......... No? Ok."
Second. The nurse who did my bloodwork was quick, efficient and generally very lovely. (A bit fond of waving the vials of my own blood in my face, which is bad, not that it scares me. I'm very calm as I observe my own blood, and then observe that the floor is about to slap me in the forehead. All of you who are wondering why I never became a vet, there's your answer. Me + blood = very sudden nap.)
But perhaps doing bloodwork isn't the best line of work for someone with a pronounced Eastern European accent.
"Ok, ve need just vone more vial of your blaaaaad."
"You do WORK here, right? I mean, we are in a hallway, and my doctor didn't mention this....."
I did really enjoy the orderly who pushed me down to my ultrasound. He said his habit of speedwalking was responsible for an entire new hospital policy on how fast you were allowed to push a patient. A speed limit, in effect.
And I had the Lamborghini of orderlies. I made sure to tell him I was proud of him.
The doctor who did my ultrasound was mercifully quick, bless his heart. He made sure the goo he smeared on my tummy was warm. You'd think it would have occurred to him that heated goo would have been even nicer when it came time for the inter-vaginal camera wand ultrasound thingamajig, but *shrug* he was in a hurry, no doubt for my sake.
He told me I have a very bright endometrial band, so I nodded primly and said thank you. (When in doubt, take it as a compliment, that's rule #4 when dealing with men.)
(Incidentally, I love that spell-check was not familiar with the word "endometrial" but had no issue with "thingamajig.")
Lastly, my nurse's name was Ulysses. That alone rocks. Also, he told me it was his medical opinion that I should avoid the hospital dinner, because tonight was tuna night.
One last suggestion for the hospital.
NEVER, EVER run out of stickers. It's an essential part of medical care, as far as I'm concerned. Anyone who is elbow deep in my ladybits had better give me either a sticker or a phone number.
Don't you agree?
Labels: actual conversations, ladybits, medical
2 Comments:
My goodness - you poor thing. *sending you good thoughts*
Thank you both, you're so sweet. *puts sticker on shirt and basks in the glow of good thoughts*
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