| rev:text
| - I will admit, before going any further, this review is biased.
Because I fucking hate hospitals.
Not only because they are Valhallas of corporate greed wherein people must buy in to be allowed the right to live staffed with trained professionals who take oaths to help and nurture but won't hesitate to deny treatment to LGBT individuals, but also because they are strongholds of suffering and human misery.
That and they smell funny. Like generic, corporate hotels. That "there is no life in this room because we have sterilized it of everything, even personality" smell.
When my mother was scheduled for surgery at Maryvale, I was a little worried. My hang-ups with hospitals aside, Maryvale is just an unpleasant place to be. I once had a gun pulled on me while dropping off a library book.
It takes a very special brand of stupidity to motivate someone to mugging. Any other idiot would have realized that the book I was holding was worth more than the 2 dollars in change in my pockets.
Getting to the hospital was a fucking travesty. There are like ten openings in the parking lot but only one viable entrance.
All the the entrances to the hospitals are lined up on the same driveway. So I nearly got plowed by an ambulance while dropping my mother off to check in.
I don't want to sound nit-picky, but if you've got a guy in your vehicle who's spleen is hanging out, maybe you should have your own lane. Maybe.
What was originally scheduled for a one-hour outpatient procedure became a three-hour ordeal as both the anesthesiologist AND the surgeon were both stuck in traffic.
This required long periods of sitting in the SCU waiting room, watching Governor Blagojevich's career go down in flames on MSNBC as I stared at the vending machine and asked myself whether I would rather kill myself with Twix or chili cheese fritos.
I ended up deciding on twizzlers.
While I waited for some word on my mother's condition I was visited by ssomething-like-but-not-necessarily a hospitality coordinator. She tried so hard to get me to take some of the cookies or coffee in her cart, but I was just too nervous to eat.
Not surprisingly, she was the only staff member who seemed at all concerned with keeping me calm and informed.
When I would walk up to the counter to see if I could get a status update on my mother, the receptionist would sigh, look up from her paper snowflakes project and look at me as if I just shit in her corn flakes.
Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your tacky holiday reverie. Just curious, you know, if my mother, who should've been out of surgery TWO HOURS AGO, is doing okay. Silly me. I'll go back to the waiting room. I'm really curious to see how that bailout works out.
While I waited for some word I went to the cafeteria.
It's worthy to note that the ground floor of Marvyale Hospital is floor 2, not floor 1.
So I spent twenty minutes wandering around looking for something to eat and only finding radiology and urology labs.
That shit doesn't even make sense to me, and I lived in Europe for most of my childhood.
I didn't get anything in the cafeteria, as the grill had closed. When I went to pay for my cup of horchata, the doctor in front of me let me pass him.
"Are you sure, man? I don't want to make your break even shorter than I imagine it is."
"Actually, this is the only way I GET a break. The sooner I pay for that and eat it, the sooner I gotta get back up there."
As phobic as I am of doctors, even I find it a little retarded that the asshole scrambling eggs in the cafeteria gets a longer break than the guy saving lives.
When one of the nurses sought me out, I was given a sheet of all the things I would have to watch out for.
Keep up liquids, check. Call if there's any tingling sensation while urinating...uh, check. No sexual intercourse.
YOU ARE AWARE THAT I AM HER DAUGHTER, RIGHT?
This awkward odyssey ends three hours later than it should have, with me driving my doped up mother home and then leaving her there while I finished up with my finals.
In the end of all this, I can be grateful about one thing; when I eventually get my SRS done, it WILL NOT be at Maryvale Hospital.
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