So, I'm not sure what I did to deserve karmic retribution, but for some reason the universe hates me this week.
On monday I went to the emergency room for abdominal pain. Actually I hit a Minute Clinic downtown first, only to find out that it wasn't a "mĭn'ĭt" clinic that would only take a moment, it was a "mahy-noot" clinic that was very small. A 10' x 10' room, in fact. The nice doctor there didn't even want to see my insurance card, she just told me to get over to the hospital, as she couldn't treat potential appendicitis or kidney stones.
Word to the wise: Don't go to HCMC if you can help it. I went to the ER and had to wait for six hours in the waiting room before they could see me. I asked the gal that took my vitals every couple hours if they were short-staffed, and they said, "no, it's always like this on monday." Splendid. An African woman had been at the hospital for 9 hours, and hadn't been treated by the time I got called in. I overheard a girl talking about how the hospital had stopped sending her bills because they knew she could never afford to pay them (the ER was apparently her only treatment option). An old man that looked to be a veteran slid off of his wheelchair in front of the triage desk and lay on the floor crying.
I do have insurance, thankfully, but it's not good insurance: The only affordable option at my current job is the stuff designed for young immortals, which I sadly am no longer. Many people there that day weren't even lucky enough to have that. Anyone planning on voting for McCain this fall may want to spend a few hours in an urban hospital's waiting room before deciding that our health care system isn't irrevocably broken.
They eventually called me back and ran a battery of tests: a CT scan, two ultrasounds, blood tests, a urine test... I was so bored from waiting for tests that I called almost everyone on my phone's saved memory list, and then I slept in a drug-induced stupor. At one point I was left outside the ultrasound room for about an hour. To add insult to injury, I missed Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles because of that bullshit... luckily I saw it on a freind's TiVO later.
At 11:40 PM (I had gotten to the hospital at 11:30 AM), the MD woke me up to inform me that they didn't know what the fuck was wrong with me. Elevated enzyme count in my liver and abdominal pain (no shit) was my prognosis. They gave me a vicodin perscrilption and cut me loose. Given that I was downtown without a car, I had to run like hell to catch the midnight bus.
The next morning, because I had been running hard in the freezing cold after taking muscle relaxing pain killers, both of my legs were completely cramped. I could barely walk. On my way to hobbling to the bus stop to go to work, I twisted my goddamn ankle so bad that I heard the bones crack. It didn't swell up so I don't think it's broken, but at this point I'm just resisting more serious injury on pure denial.
My abdomen still hurts like hell and I've got like 3 vicodin left to last me until my doctor's appointment on monday. If I hadn't had the vicarious thrill of watching the State Legislature veto override for the transit bill and smackdown that fuckhole Tim Pawlenty with his harpy queen Carol Molnau, I would have written the week off completely.
Hopefully I'll have better things to show for March than February.
On monday I went to the emergency room for abdominal pain. Actually I hit a Minute Clinic downtown first, only to find out that it wasn't a "mĭn'ĭt" clinic that would only take a moment, it was a "mahy-noot" clinic that was very small. A 10' x 10' room, in fact. The nice doctor there didn't even want to see my insurance card, she just told me to get over to the hospital, as she couldn't treat potential appendicitis or kidney stones.
Word to the wise: Don't go to HCMC if you can help it. I went to the ER and had to wait for six hours in the waiting room before they could see me. I asked the gal that took my vitals every couple hours if they were short-staffed, and they said, "no, it's always like this on monday." Splendid. An African woman had been at the hospital for 9 hours, and hadn't been treated by the time I got called in. I overheard a girl talking about how the hospital had stopped sending her bills because they knew she could never afford to pay them (the ER was apparently her only treatment option). An old man that looked to be a veteran slid off of his wheelchair in front of the triage desk and lay on the floor crying.
I do have insurance, thankfully, but it's not good insurance: The only affordable option at my current job is the stuff designed for young immortals, which I sadly am no longer. Many people there that day weren't even lucky enough to have that. Anyone planning on voting for McCain this fall may want to spend a few hours in an urban hospital's waiting room before deciding that our health care system isn't irrevocably broken.
They eventually called me back and ran a battery of tests: a CT scan, two ultrasounds, blood tests, a urine test... I was so bored from waiting for tests that I called almost everyone on my phone's saved memory list, and then I slept in a drug-induced stupor. At one point I was left outside the ultrasound room for about an hour. To add insult to injury, I missed Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles because of that bullshit... luckily I saw it on a freind's TiVO later.
At 11:40 PM (I had gotten to the hospital at 11:30 AM), the MD woke me up to inform me that they didn't know what the fuck was wrong with me. Elevated enzyme count in my liver and abdominal pain (no shit) was my prognosis. They gave me a vicodin perscrilption and cut me loose. Given that I was downtown without a car, I had to run like hell to catch the midnight bus.
The next morning, because I had been running hard in the freezing cold after taking muscle relaxing pain killers, both of my legs were completely cramped. I could barely walk. On my way to hobbling to the bus stop to go to work, I twisted my goddamn ankle so bad that I heard the bones crack. It didn't swell up so I don't think it's broken, but at this point I'm just resisting more serious injury on pure denial.
My abdomen still hurts like hell and I've got like 3 vicodin left to last me until my doctor's appointment on monday. If I hadn't had the vicarious thrill of watching the State Legislature veto override for the transit bill and smackdown that fuckhole Tim Pawlenty with his harpy queen Carol Molnau, I would have written the week off completely.
Hopefully I'll have better things to show for March than February.