Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Let's document the worst possible day ever.

I have to. It's so hilariously unfortunate. Let's list the ways to infuriate Toni.

1) My medical records are lost and nobody seems to know I exist. The doctor's office tells me they'll contact my pediatrician by today and everything will be fine. I call today: nobody has even bothered. I try calling the pediatrician and she doesn't seem to remember me. I'm the fat kid with weird green eyes and blonde hair. No? Not ringing a bell? Okay. I try my old community college and they tell me "Yeah, we've got them right here. Fax them? Sure, it will take a few days. Oh, wanna come pick them up? Fine, ya antsy prick."

2) My college has me waiting about fifteen minutes for two sheets of paper that say I don't have AIDS.

3) I go to Wappingers, my doctor's office, and they don't seem to remember me from an hour's phone call ago. I get the paperwork settled and my doctor comes out and goes "WAIT. before you leave, we need to talk..."

I shit. A doctor actually wanting to talk to you and showing concern can never be a good thing.

"So, your blood results came back and I'm concerned. I'd like to test you again."

4) I wait 15 minutes in a children's room with a table shaped like a truck. I overhear the doctor say to someone "in there is Antonia, she needs to get bloodwork done again...her results came back, eh...*mumbles softly* and I think we should try again."

I look at the table shaped like a truck again. I want to set it on fire.

5) I give blood again and they tell me to wait and they'll give me results immediately. Immediately becomes 20 minutes. I'm nervous. There's an old lady babbling at me about how great her grandkids are and I'm smiling and imagining her riding the truck table on fire. The doctor walks by and goes "....OH!" and goes back to her office to get the results. Am I really that easy to forget?

I'm told that my results are now perfect and then they admit this to me:

6) They left my bloodwork out for a few hours on Monday and everyone seemed to forget about it, clearly because it is blood that came from ole' forgetable me, so the results came back fucked up. Gotta love efficiency.

I now have all of my medical records set straight and everything filled out for New Paltz. I get in my car to leave and

7) A Fedex delivery truck swings around the corner of the parking lot at a good 35 or 40mph. I scream, jam my breaks, and he misses my side of the car by about a foot. Instead of even glancing down at my car to see where the scream came from and if said screamer is okay, he just goes on his way. I hope he dies of pancreatic cancer.

I get to the post office and fill out my little section of the health report but:

8) I don't have a pen and the only person with one is another babbling old lady, but this one smells bad. So I have to wait for her to finish writing out addresses on five or six packages.

I drive home, get to my garage, look around for anymore potential danger, and sigh a breath of relief as I enter my house.

9) A spider falls on my head.



It's almost three o'clock. I've got hours before this day of the damned is over. Do you think I'll survive? Tune in to find out.

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