Back to MMI. I have to go in the morning and then return in the afternoon. I know that this means that they're either going to inject me with something foul or make me drink something foul. I get the needle - which is better than the drink in my book. Sadly however, I find out that what they've injected me with is radioactive! Awesome!
My instructions are to drink and void continuously so that all of the radioactive junk not absorbed into my bones is out of my body asap so that it doesn't get absorbed elsewhere. At this point I'm thinking that this was perhaps not such a great idea. Can I drink enough to save my poor bones too?
Kadriye and I head off to IKEA. There is no IKEA outlet in Victoria so she wants to browse for new ideas for her loft. I'm looking for bookcases for my neglected and hence little used living room. It was rather a harried trip to IKEA as I headed for the batheroom every ten minutes. However, I can now navigate that store with my eyes closed! I know all the shortcuts. What I wouldn't do for a pair of adult diapers at this point. More water please.
Back to MMI. Kadriye and I sit in the waiting room - she didn't come with me in the morning as she was checking out a funky book/comic book store in the next mall where I park to avoid the reedonkulous $4 charge at MMI. We sit in the waiting room and I can see Kadriye's brow start to actually furrow. The front line staff here need some training. One poor guy comes in to "register" for his appointment and the receptionist actually yells at him, "You were supposed to start drinking water and hour and a half ago! We can't do the test if your bladder isn't full!" Can you imagine how that poor bastard must have felt?
I had been given a special slip so that I didn't have to wait in the registration line which is quite long. I was told to just hand it to one of the other front line workers (I don't know how to refer to these women. There are three windows and they sit at computers typing. They call people up to give them back their medical cards - but they don't then take you in. This is quite confusing for most of the people - many elderly who work very hard to get up to the window, often losing their seat in the crowded waiting room and who are then told to go back and sit down and wait until they're called - as if they haven't just been called! I guess I'll call them receptionists, at least it's polite.)
When I walk up to the woman, I haven't said a word before she tells me that I need to go stand in the other line. I just look at her for a minute while all of the different responses flutter through my mind. It's a Schwarzenegger moment. I maintain eye contact while I pull my special piece of paper out of my purse. "Oh" is all she says and then tells me to sit down - as if there are any other options in this place.
It's a full half hour past my schedule appointment time and I'm still sitting in the waiting room drinking, peeing and napping on Kadriye's shoulder. During that time my phone rings and I answer it. The same "receptionist" is immediately on her feet pointint to the exit, "Go between the doors to talk on that phone" she yells at me. Again, I maintain eye contact while I tell Debbie that I can't chat right now. Then I hang up - the entire time looking at this woman. Maybe it's just my generation, but what is the difference between Kadriye and I sitting chatting and Debbie and I chatting on a phone? The place is now as quiet as a library until someone else's phone rings and is answered. I fear the worst and Kadriye and I are both primed to let loose our tongues. (For those who don't know her, Kadriye has an amazing ability to speak even more severely than I, but all coated in sugar....a skill I must learn.) However, the "receptionist" doesn't bat an eyelash and the other "client" has a pleasant conversation in Spanish that doesn't seem to perturb any of my fellow Pergatorians. Perhaps it's me?
Finally I get called. I have to say that techs and others working in the back rooms of this place make up for what sits out front. It's quite a difference in atmosphere and tone. The techs are all courteous and efficient without being rude or hostile. I begin to relax. They know the state I'm in here and show me first to the bathroom and then ask me to have a seat in another tiny waiting room. I'm not there too long before I get called in to the scanning room where I simply have to remove my jacket and empty my pockets and lie down. Cue Angels singing. I ask if I'm allowed to sleep and they say "Sure" and even tie up my arms and legs so that I can't move (I presume this is standard and not special treatment like out front) and then give me a blanket and I'm off to my happy place for about half an hour. Ah.
When the test is over I'm told that I have to wait for the radiologist to read the film to see if there are more pictures required. I ask if I can wait there with my glorious blanket on the table, but apparently they want to keep taking pictures and so I have to return to the waiting room. Alas!
The doc wants more pictures of my hip. I'm not surprised. I have almost no cartilage in my left hip joint caused by a couple of decades of an undiagnosed or mis-diagnosed recurring impingement. I've told them this - but if the doc wants me back on a table with a blanket - no problem. Sadly, the extra hip pictures only take a few minutes and Kadriye and I are on our way home. No more tests are scheduled. There will be no more poking and bruising and cutting until the BIG DAY.
No comments:
Post a Comment