Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Bludgeon A Cold, Torture The Doctor?

I promise I’m almost done. I appreciate the inbox of sympathy and support I’ve received from one and all…it’s always nice to know someone would care if I ceased to exist.

Oh, the drama!

I’m nearly finished whimpering.

Almost….but not quite.

Today, I attempted to contact one GP (general practitioner) affectionately known to me as Dr. G….(not to be confused with Mr. G, the fairly accurate weatherman on our local news…even though they do look somewhat alike...except Mr. G has all his hair and blindingly white teeth and Dr. G…well, does not.) I was hoping he could give me a quick look-see to inform me if I’m going to survive to see spring or if I’m about to kick the proverbial bucket.

C’est impossible to properly type and look downward at ones laptop screen with endless amounts of bodily fluids pouring from oneself.

I apologize for being so graphic (I can hear your ewwww-s from here) but welcome to my world. And if that wasn’t bad enough, it’s only one side that’s running….the other side of my nose is stopped up tight. I’ve learned that if I tilt my head at a certain precise angle, (which makes me look like I’m in a perpetual state of pondering…) I can find some kind of barbaric form of balance…thereby allowing both air and liquids to flow somewhat marginally from both nostrils.

This…as you may imagine, is completely unacceptable.

Although I thought I’d been exposed to every form of automated voicemail torture known to exist, today I experienced the KING of them all. The MOTHER…if you will…of deliberate programmed persecution.

After dialing the telephone number and navigating my way through the maze of questions:

  • Are you a child or an adult? (Okay, so the jury’s still out on this one.)
  • Do you need to see someone today? (Duh.)
  • Are you pregnant? Nursing? Overweight? Depressed? Hammered?

I was then placed on hold…to wait my turn for an available live human being to take my call. I was informed that my call was extremely important to them…and that they would move mountains, part seas and end world hunger if I’d just stay on the line for the next available person.

I then got yet another recording that said, “All appointment lines are presently busy. If you’d like to hold, please press ‘1’.” I did..so, I did.

After about 30 seconds, I was treated to another message which said: “To continue holding, please press “1”. Otherwise, please press “2” and leave a message.” After an awkward moment of confusion, I pressed “1”.

After about 15 seconds more, I heard this: “To cancel holding, please press “2” now…otherwise press “1” and I’ll try your party again.” Now completely unsure of the number sequence, I press “1”.

Then I hear, “All appointment lines are presently busy. If you’d like to hold, please press ‘1’.”

Then, I swore I heard it say “I’m a computer. I can do this all day….”

I became so exasperated, I called Dr. G’s cell…which he’d no doubt completely forgotten he’d given to me from an interview we’d done last year.

I conveyed my exasperation with his office’s phone system, then went on to explain my dire symptoms. He inquired as to the hue of the fluids emerging from my nasal cavity…and I announced that “no decent, law-abiding, mature adult human being could possibly know the answer to that question…” and then I inquired if HE knew the hue of his own fluids. He did not take the bait…suggested some OTC meds and a little TLC for me….as in a long, hot bath:


It’s difficult to attempt a soak when your snout refuses to discontinue producing bodily secretions....

(Translation: It’s hard to take a bath when your nose won’t stop running.)

jh said...

At first I thought the tissues wre white flower petals. Ha!! Yikes, a picture says a 1,000 words.

susan F said...

This too shall pass. But not FREAKING SOON ENOUGH!!

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