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It�s 4:45 p.m. and I�m having my first meal of the day, a package of toast and peanut butter crackers. I don�t like to eat them normally, though. I pull the crackers apart and then peel the peanut butter off, rolling it into a ball and saving it �til last. This might be more information than anyone needs about me, but there it is.
Before I started working at the job I have now in the hospital, I worked behind the front desk in Radiology for a year and a half. I would check in patients all day long for various different Radiology procedures�ultrasounds, CT scans, nuclear medicine stress tests, MRI�s , mammograms, fluoro procedures, regular diagnostic x-rays, all sorts of stuff. Because we were the first people to have contact with the patients, they would tell us all sorts of medical information that was unnecessary for us to know for the performance of our jobs. Our jobs were essentially to say, "Thank you, Mrs. Obnoxiouswoman, Why don�t you have a seat/have a seat and fill out this form/go through that door and change everything from the waist up and have a seat in the internal waiting area and I�ll let the techs know that you�re here." I am not a physician, people. I do not want to know about your bowel problems. I just want you to show me your insurance cards and have a seat.
My favorite patients were the elderly Russian women. I don�t mean this as a racial slur, and I hope no one will be offended by reading this, but the hospital I work for attracts a large population of older people who speak essentially only Russian. These women will come in once a year for their mammograms. They�ve been instructed NOT to wear any deoderant, powder or perfume (deoderant and powder can show up on the films and look like calcifications to the Radiologist. No perfume just �cause people without deoderant or powder will load up on it to try to cover their own smells. Yucky.). The majority of them are short round women�they look like nanas! They�d come up to the desk and grunt at us, "YouspeakRussian?" We�d say no, and they�d look at us again, pronounce, "Mammogram," and grab their breasts. As a visual aid, I guess. Perhaps because they were afraid we wouldn�t understand the word "mammogram" on its own? I don�t know. But it happened every time we�d have an older Russian woman come in.
Someday, when I�m older and need to have a mammogram, I�m gonna do it here. Then I�m going to walk up to the desk and make my friend Scott check me in, if he�s still here. I�m gonna grunt "Mammogram!" at him and grab my breasts. Everyone behind the desk will laugh. You just wait and see.
So, anyway, I called the Boyfriend before he left for his company party (he works for a huge financial company here in MA. They don�t invite anyone but their employees to the party, because they�re so huge, and they still fill the World Trade Center). I was much nicer to him today. He actually apologized for pushing me last night. He said that he knew I was in a bad mood, and he should have just let it go.
Perhaps it was just a ploy, since my company party is tomorrow night, and he and I are planning to stay in the hospitality suite the hotel is giving us (perk of being on the committee), and he wants it to be a good night. I don�t care. It was a nice thing to do, regardless. And I want it to be a good night, too.
It is going to be a good night.
J
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