Children

Monday, 30 August 2010

I’ve gotta take my hat off to the front-desk lady in the radiology department of Children’s Hospital today.

The four of us woke up early (well, early for us) and got ready, got in the car, and drove into downtown St. Paul this morning. I’m not a fan (= I hate it) of driving in either downtown, so I’m already mad at whatever is going to happen before it even happens. Then we drove around a few blocks looking for the correct parking ramp. Have I mentioned before that Owen is terrified of parking ramps? Yeah, well, he is, so that certainly doesn’t make matters better.

Then we walk into the hospital. You know: those cesspools of bacteria staffed with people who were trained to think the human body is a disease needing saving from itself? Oh, and also, my wife hates going into hospitals. More than the usual person. I think it has something to do with the dumbfucks at HCMC, but I’m not getting into that right now.

Anyway, we check in at this desk, where they give us badges that say “visitor” and this man escorts us to the radiology department. Actually, as long as I’m handing out accolades, let me go ahead and say that it sure is nice that this hospital has people on hand to escort you through their labyrinth of hallways. That sure would’ve been nice at HCMC, but I guess they’ve got their hands full violating patients’ rights.

So then we get to the radiology department. They put a tag on Isla’s ankle (with her name, incorrectly spelled, printed on it), and then we sit down and wait. While waiting, a sick little girl came in, carried in her mom’s arms, while a nurse pushed an IV alongside that was attached to the girl. The girl is taken into a room, where some procedure is performed that makes her scream like she’s being assaulted. I kind of wish someone would’ve closed the door. That sure would’ve helped to not trigger any issues my wife or son may have had.

About ten minutes later, a nurse (or maybe she was a doctor, I don’t know) came over to my wife and asked her a few questions. Basically, here was the problem: she could take Isla into the room now and perform the high-radiation test on her, but it would be smarted to perform the low-radiation test first. The reason being, if the low-radiation test turns up negative, then there’s no need to subject her to high-radiation test. That makes sense, and I appreciate that the nurse/doctor had the good sense to point this out to us. But! (You knew a ‘but’ was coming, didn’t you?) They couldn’t get Isla in to do the low-radiation test until 11:30.

Hm…decisions, decisions. We had a midwives appoint scheduled for 11:00, so that was one conflict. I also thought that spending another two hours in the waiting room – besides racking up my parking fee – would probably also drive my wife and son insane. The nurse/doctor said we could come back at 3:00, but I didn’t think that was a good idea, either, as it takes my wife some time to mentally prepare herself to enter a hospital, and twice in one day seemed too much. So I asked if we could come back another day.

For some reason, the nurse/doctor couldn’t set that up, but instead told me to call a number. (That’s weird – whatever happened to appointment books?) So we went up to the front desk to get the phone number. So then this other woman hands us the phone number, and I say: “Are you gonna pay for our parking since you guys screwed up?”

Yes, yes, I know that I was being a bit rude, and a bit sarcastic, but I had every reason to believe the woman would not grant my request. For one thing, she works at a hospital, which means that even if she personally wanted to grant my request, she would first have to fill out forms A-114 and B-45 in triplicate, submit them to the board of directors, take a urine sample, have me wait in this dinky little room with a creepy skeleton, and then stamp “DENIED” on my forehead…by which time my parking fee would be even higher. For another thing, there was a sign on the counter that read: “No, we DO NOT validate parking.” So, I guess they’ve been asked that question before.

But guess what? The woman responded with: “Absolutely,” which she said in the most pleasant voice, as if I had just asked her if she wanted to go on an all-expense paid Caribbean cruise. She leaned over and grabbed two stickers and, as she handed them to me, she said: “Oh, but it wasn’t us who screwed up, we were just doing what the doctors scheduled your daughter for.” Ha! Brilliant! She deftly defused any further anger by passing the buck (usually I hate buck-passing, but sometimes it IS warranted, and I think the woman was correct in this instance).

But wait, there’s more, she further says to me: “Here’s one sticker for you for today, and here’s one for when you come back.” Score! So not only did I not have to pay $4 today, I won’t have to pay $8 (or whatever) when Isla and I return.

Bravo, radiology front-desk lady. Bravo.

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