Postcards

Carrie Fischer wrote a lovely novel called Postcards From The Edge. Occasionally I steal that idea, as well as a phrase used once on Will and Grace "You look like an insane housewife from one of the square states."

Together they create "Postcards From A Square State Mom". Which, for a while, was what I called random email posts. Back when "mom" was what I did with most of my time. Before I added "teacher" to my lengthy hyphenated title. Anyway, it gives me an excuse to write in non sequitors.

 As we were driving to our condo yesterday, Jim asked if he was turning on the correct road. I said "Yes, it's  by the hospital". Because when you have children and you are staying out of town, you know where the nearest emergency room is.

  Lucky for us we have managed to avoid out of town emergency room visits. But driving by the glowing EMERGENCY sign brought back a memory of my own, an "emergency" room at Littleton Porter Adventist Joke Building.

  Almost sixteen years ago I blew my MCL and ACL while skiing in Loveland. The girls were babies---Harp was only 4 months old and G was almost two years old. I have never been a skier. I skied because Jim skied and I wanted to spend time with Jim. I was never very good at it, and unlike when I am rollerblading I took my sweet time, toddling along, chatting with the bunnies and enjoying the scenery. Nonetheless, I still managed to snap ligaments right in half. They sound like gunshots when they go off.

  I had a lovely schlep down the mountain being toggled along behind a Rescue Skier, bound up like a mummy and annoyed as hell. Also there was pain, my knee hurt.

   For some weird reason, when we came back into town the Littleton Porter Joke Hospital was where we went. I think it was because the Real Porter on Downing is such a great hospital and we'd had  success there when my appendix e'sploded, we thought these guys would be equally as magnificent and they were right off of C470.

    The emergency room was a regular  office type waiting room, square and carpeted and quiet. There was a guy before me, and then me. There was no "emergency" in the receptionist's demeanor, and I sat quietly with my leg packed in ice and waited my turn. As Jim and I sat  alone (once the guy before went in), a mom and her son came blasting in the doors. She was out of breath, and her son's hand was held high in a bloody towel. I was surprised at first at her Emergency entrance, I had forgotten that I was not in a regular doctor's office. She babbled to the receptionist about her son slamming his finger in a filing cabinet (maybe?) at school. The kid was trying to hold it together but he was in a lot of pain, and he was bleeding in what seemed to me to be an Emergency Type Manner, and the mom was beside herself.

    And the receptionist could not be moved out of her current speed of "Who Gives A Crap?"

   As it was an emergency room, I couldn't help but be confused by the fact that they made the mom and boy sit down and wait. There was literally nobody in the place but me, and adult with a semi emergency, and it did say "EMERGENCY" clearly on the door. The Hell?

     As the mom sat trying to calm her son's crying, Jim and I sat rather dumbfounded at the Utter Lack of Emergency Behavior that was happening.

     After what seemed like an eternity, the receptionist came out and called my name and said "You're next."

   I looked at Jim and the same thought crossed our eyes "The fuck I am."

   I shook my head and pointed at the bleeding boy. "He's first."

   The receptionist actually looked annoyed, then shrugged her shoulders.

   The mom lost what little control she had left and started weeping. She thanked me as she ushered her shattered son into the back room, where I can only suspect there were doctors. Based on the waiting room I began to wonder if there were just shoemakers back there.

  The mom made me feel heroic, which was not okay. She and the boy should have been taken back immediately, without question, without paperwork or discussion or waiting.

   I'm just saying. The Hell?
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