avril 07, 2004
medical care in the great state of brooklyn
dom's roommate a. doesn't miss a trick.
it took him no more than five minutes to notice the paper cuff on my arm and ask me what i'd been doing at the local hospital. while i declined to answer in specific terms (as i will do here--suffice it to say, the reason i went to the hospital was really quite unpleasant and really looked much worse than it actually was), i assured him that i was fine, and went about my business of nursing the very stiff drink i'd poured upon our return to the homestead ten minutes prior.
the saga began three hours before, when the offending incident occurred and i interrupted the construction of dinner to announce that i needed to go to the hospital. immediately. within seconds, dom had dropped everything (quite literally; the fish made a lovely splatting sound upon the counter) and got on the horn to his friend l., who didn't think twice about giving us a ride for expediency's sake. after much hemming and hawing as to which hospital i was to be deposited at (new york methodist? lenox hill? mt. sinai?), we decided that closer was better, and i found myself in the waiting room at the long island college hospital on the arm of a very concerned boy.
it hadn't even occurred to me that part of the reason dom was there was to take care of some of the more irritating hospital registration bits (like figuring out who to talk to and what was going on) for me. it hadn't crossed my mind that he was there to actively make this easier on me. to take care of me.
clearly, it's been a while since i had someone to do that.
long enough that i'd forgotten that it's thoroughly acceptable to cry when i get really, really scared.
which i did. which i was.
they shuffled me through to the examination area in a ridiculously short amount of time--i was in in under two hours, which is unheard of in the new york hospital community. we followed the nurse to the warm, well lit area, where we were deposited in a couple of very comfortable (if heinously ugly) chairs to await further processing. we were there only about ten minutes when an affable man with a spanish lilt to his voice (an anomaly in this building full of cheerful caribbean and west indian accents) who called me "mrs. _____", and kept asking if i wanted my "husband" as my emergency contact...it was as charming as a hospital registration can possibly be expected to be, from the rolling laptop console he used to the gentle way he said that i could take all the time i needed signing the forms if i was having trouble holding the pen (i was shaking pretty visibly).
it took the doctor approximately two minutes to discern what was wrong with me and assure me that i was going to be absolutely fine, as well as tell me that it was good i'd come in--if for no other reason than to be officially told that it looked much, much worse than it actually was.
but like i said. i'm fine. absolutely fit, fine and fighting speed.
and thus ends the hospital adventure.