Yeah, feeling just a bit too wall-punchy right now to wait until midnight to post this…
Kicking off April rants - earlier today I tootle-loo’ed on down to emergency because my heart was palpitating more crazily than those crazy “bladder pumps” used for the expanding hairy forearms in American Werewolf in London. The nurse who attended to me was perfectly fine, but when she parted ways she made the unfortunate mistake to say that she’ll get someone in there right away to disconnect all the electrode/pad thingies (or whatever they’re called) and I’ll be on my way.
By the ten-minute mark I was starting wondering what was up, and if I feel I’m having to wait too long for, like, anything, I start whistling, and the longer the wait, the louder the whistling gets, in order to be increasingly irritating, in order to finally get someone’s attention to, um, maybe check in on me?
My bed, like all the others, was completely surrounded by a white curtain, and as I went through my moldy oldie playlist, I occasionally heard a triage assistant (or whatever the hell her title was) with a distinctly low, husky voice, making the most snippy, inane, passive-aggressive comments to her co-workers, and I wondered how the hell they have could put up with such an asinine bimbo. (from here on referred to as A.T.N. - Asinine Triage Nurse)
As I segued from Smoke Gets in Your Eyes into the big M’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, an older woman (I’d hazard, oh, 86?) in the bed next to me commented to her companion “oh, what WON-derful whistling,” while the odd nurse’s comments on my whistling were a bit more bemused…
…but not rousing their interest any further than that. (um…WTF???) (btw - this whistling tactic has most definitely worked in the past, like in banks and other Leacockian institutions, but, strangely, not this afternoon)
By minute fucking 30 the hit parade veered into the Stones, and soon, I was like, ok, fuck this, and with great effort (because I was held back by all the wires still connecting me to what I’m guessing was some ECG thingie) I was just barely able to reach the curtain to pull it aside to stick my head out and say, “Hi, am I still supposed to be here? I think I was told about half an hour ago that this would get taken care of more or less right away, kinda.”
The nurse’s station was empty save for someone behind the main desk and one other nurse, whose lighter voice indicated it wasn’t the A.T.N., and I was told someone will be right there. I closed the curtain back up (heh - I’d like to have had a photo of me straining out to the curtain with all those crazy wires stretched taut from me) and a minute later I hear A.T.N’s distinct voice come up and say to the whistling lover, next to me, “so, you want out, then?”
“No dear, I think it’s the gentleman next to me.”
“Oh no, nope, no one in there.”
At this, I go, “uuuuuuuuuhhhhhh excuse me!? Um, you sure about that?”
A.T.N. then whips my curtain open, and instead of offering an apology, she goes, “Oh - I thought you left ages ago.”
“Uh, evidently not?”
She disconnects the wires from the electrode/pad thingies and says I’m free to go, and leaves, closing the curtain behind her again. Meanwhile, I look down at all the pads that are still attached to me (???) and so once again (heh - with much more ease this time) poke my upper half out of the curtains and ask if these are all still supposed to be attached on to me.
While I was’t expecting an apology per se but hoping for at least some kind of oops response or something from her, she instead goes, nonchalantly, “oh you can go ahead and take them off if you want.”
Oh really? Thanks for offering me the choice! (said internally)
Leaving, I stared death into her, which she returned with a searching “what up?” look, so, with relish, I reported her.
To think how long I would’ve sat there, obviously forgotten, still gets me, uh, just a little pissed.
Been dealing with this bonkers arrhythmia shit for too long and on May 7 will get set up with a 24-hr ecg holter.
I’m going to have to say goodbye to an 18 yo catfriend in the next couple of weeks, it’s just so, so hard. It sucks that one of the best things we can do for them sucks so much ������