Birthday
August 15, 2010.
The first time in 27 years I didn’t get a birthday card from my grandparents. Getting old sucks.
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On the doctor’s office
So thanks to the Internet power of my iPad, I’m blogging from my 3:15 doctor’s appointment.
I’m going to paint you a picture. Sixth floor of the Dillon building of St. Vincent’s. Heat index of 108. Pale yellow walls, worn carpet and the most desperate hallway in America. The waiting room is overflowing and children, who I’m sure are in the waiting room, but whose cries echo down the sad hallway like a shitty brass band, are running wild. And the air conditioning is out. Out as in prop-the-door-open-and-hope-the-patients-don’t-revolt sort of out.
My doctor has leased a small office on this floor. I can’t blame him for the choice of music since it’s probably piped in from hell’s elevators, but Edwin MCain is on. I clearly don’t go to church enough.
I’m through! Now done standing in the sweaty hallway and in an examination room so interchangeable that if the door opened and I was back at my family doctor in Travelers Rest I wouldn’t be surprised.
Except for the two model esophaguses (esophagi?) resting on the sink counter, this room isn’t so bad. Nevermind. Just noticed the “Internal and External Hemorrhoids” poster behind my head. Graphic. Gross.