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This may not be my best story, but I need to get it off of my chest and I don't know where else to drop it. So without further delay....
Today, I found myself in a medical facility to see a specialist for something I've put off for a long time. That appointment wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but at the end they send me for labs. This isn't a hospital or a clinic..it's a specialist place with a floor for consultation and a surgical floor.....and a lab.
I'm sent to the lab, which appears to be a makeshift walled off area in an atrium area outside the office entrance. There is a sliding door that closes it off. Employees scurry in and out as I wait outside as directed on the sign.
Eventually one of the golden girls patients comes out and it's my turn. To set the stage the entire room feels about the size of a full sized pick up box. There is a large chair in the center facing the sliding door. To one side a stack of containers-supplies, and to my left a tray with vials of blood.
After some confusion about what they were to do, they get it figured out, strap my arm up like a heroin junky and start thumping a vein.....just as she starts to stick me, Mrs Doubtfire slides open the door and steps into the area. She's 3 maybe 4 feet directly in front of me. She's presenting something in front of her like a child proudly showing a parent a brownie she helped make
Betty white isn't holding a brownie.....it's a turd in something that looks like a paper plate or coffee filter and she wants to give it to the lady who is drawing my blood. Sorry ma'am I really don't need your hepatitis mainlined into my forearm.....and she stands ther, oblivious to my situation, talking with the lady who is drawing what must be several quarts of my blood. They're talking about poop....can she make more....no, Hillary Clinton thinks she's done but assures that she will definitely be able to lay a cable at home later and another lady hands her some stuff....and she leaves....no more than the door shuts, and another lady opens the door and hands a cup of piss to them.....she leaves quickly and then mrs doubtfire pops back in and I am blessed with a conversation about keeping a turd in the fridge and another room temperature and how she's going to use the glove to pick up the dooky.....
How I didn't vomit on those people I will never know.....but I will wake up in a sweat tonight, screaming....afraid of the lady with the poop on the paper plate.
Gross.
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