totally noocular dude

Upon my return to the house this morning, I announced to my husband that I really should not be allowed out of the house unaccompanied ever again. I know it sounds a little dramatic, but you know me, I would never exaggerate.

Ahem.

You see, this morning I had a very early appointment with my rheumatologist. And before I go on, I totally know how that sounds and can almost get a whiff of the musty, old smell that's conjured up by the very words themselves. Appointment with my rheumatologist. Just sounds old, doesn't it?

I remember the first time I went; my husband accompanied me. The waiting room door opened, and a nurse appeared and called out five or six names, one right after the other. I thought that was kind of odd, everyone having their own appointment time and all. Then, as I waited by the door for the rest of these people whose names had been called to shuffle on over, I decided to go last and hold the door open for everyone. I remember whispering to my husband, "I'm not sure I want to be a part of this group." I'm pretty sure he shooshed me, and said to keep moving. I began to wonder if we would have some sort of group meeting or something, but alas, as we wandered down a couple of hallways, everyone was deposited into their very own exam rooms. Me included.

Anyway.

So I'm on my way, and traffic is not too bad. I have to insert here that I've made this trip numerous times by myself over the past few months and have been quite capable of driving to my desired location and arriving on time. However, this morning, at what turned out to be less than one mile away from where I was headed, all of the sudden, nothing looked familiar, and I began to wonder if I'd gone too far. I guess we've all sort of zoned out while driving, but this was like I had been transported to a foreign city for a few seconds, and I really thought to myself, "I have no idea where I am." Luckily, before that thought had time to thoroughly embed itself into my brain and completely freak me out, I saw my intended building rise into view. Whew! Sometimes I really wonder if I've had a lobotomy. Really, my hair is sore and everything.

Yippee! I made it. I parked and went into the building and on up to the floor of the Muscle and Bone Clinic. It was quite crowded for so early in the morning, but only one person stood between me and the receptionists' desk. The next available very nice lady called me up with the usual, "Can I help you?" I stepped forward and said, "Yes, I have a 7:30 appointment with Dr..." And it was as if I had been struck by lightning that very second. His name was gone. This man who I've been seeing regularly over the past few months. Gone, do you hear me? The receptionist smiled, sort of, and asked for my name which I did manage to remember and then told me I could have a seat. "Quinet! Dr. Quinet! See? I do know why I'm here!" I decided to just sit down before I hurt myself. Or my brain started smoking.

You see, this is not my first little "mishap" if you will. These kinds of occurrences make you doubt yourself. Your ability to function. Your need for "assistance." *sigh* Yeah.

Well, I did have the chance to ask Doc about my headaches, forgetfulness and the like, and if it could possibly have something to do with the medication I am now on for my R.A. (please God, let it be side effects) He smiled and sort of concurred in a somewhat non-committal way that these maybe, possibly could be side effects, especially the headaches. That's just great. We can fix the headaches, but the stupidity? Well, that's just our way of sayin', "Thanks for playin'."

Right about now, I'm trying to write it off to being tired; I mean I did get up before the sun this morning, for cryin' out loud. Nah, lots of people do that. Well, we've been under a lot of stress lately, what with trying to get the house finished and everything. That could be it? Probably not. Lots of people are under stress and don't forget their first born's name. Hmm. The moon! Yeah, the moon has been in some weird phase lately. I mean if it can affect the tide, surely it could suck some important information out of my head. With little resistance, mind you. Yep. I'm going with the moon.

Well, as I sit waiting for Doc to return with a prescription, it suddenly dawns on me that I have another appointment. Today. As soon as he's done with me. Now yesterday, I totally knew that I had two appointments, but today being a brand-new day and all, I can honestly say it did not cross my mind until that very instant. Luckily, it's just a few floors down. Shouldn't be a problem. Or so I thought.

I make it down to the proper floor and head to the desk. This place is crawling with people! I guess everyone is just anxious to get started on this year's deductibles or something. Anyway, there are two receptionists (and I use this word loosely) behind the desk chewing gum, leaning toward each other and no doubt catching up on their gossip, because as I approached the counter, they stopped chatting and chewing momentarily, and looking perturbed asked, "Yes?" I told them that Dr. Q had ordered a bone scan for this morning.

And this is what the gossiping gum-chewer said. "Oh. That's gonna be in nuclear medicine. Go around the desk, down the hall a little, turn left, then follow the blue line." And she promptly returned to chewing and talking, talking and chewing.

Whuh? Huh? Nuclear medicine? Blue line? Ok. I can do blue line.

So I rounded the desk, went down the hall a little, turned left, and sure enough! There it was. A blue line right there on the floor. So I began to follow it. Like a rat sniffing his way through a cruel maze, I followed that blue line. When it zigged, I zigged. When it zagged? I zagged too. Around corners and through long corridors, I followed that little blue line. I followed its trail so well in fact, that when I saw shoes approaching, I merely threw up my hand as both a friendly hello, and a sign that I could not be bothered. Surely they could see that I was following THE BLUE LINE. Into the bowels of the medical center it led, where civilians ceased to exist. Only people dressed in white coats carrying on quiet conversations in the hallway were to be found. But I stuck to my mission of follwing the blue line with all the tenacity of a bloodhound tracking the scent of a serial killer. And when they saw me coming, they ceased their hushed tones momentarily, and after I'd passed, went on with their little secrets. They were so impressed with my line-following abilities that it rendered them speechless, no doubt. When the blue line ceased to exist, I finally was able to raise my head, and there it was. NUCLEAR MEDICINE.

I must say, it was a fairly ominous-looking sign for what appeared to be a tiny room with only one occupant, other than the girl behind the desk. I think he might have been talking to himself, but I can't say for sure. But beyond that door? Who knows what goes on back there?! Considering the length of time I followed that blue line, I could be underground in a neighboring city, for all I know. This could be the very place where nuclear "stuff" is stored or manufactured. Eeewww. I think I want out of here. I quickly tell the girl I'm scheduled for a bone scan. She checks her little clipboard, looks back at me, and inquires, "What kind of scan?" Now, if you're still reading, you know that what with me being unable to remember the doctor's name and stuff, that this was perhaps the wrong question to ask. Or maybe the right question, but DEFINITELY the wrong person. Then she says, "Oh, a bone DENSITY scan?" And just like in the cartoons when the giant light bulb appears over the head, BING! "Yeah, that sounds right." She smiles politely and asks, "Did you follow the blue line?" And I reply, somewhat haughtily, "Why, yes. Yes, I did." Because you know, them was some good blue line followin' skills I just exhibited. And I bet you can guess what she said next. "You need to follow the blue line all the way back the way you came, then go around the desk, take a left at the escalators and blah, blah, blah."

DING! DANG! I'm not sure I let her finish before I backed out of there and commenced following the blue line. AGAIN. I think I was doing o.k. on my reverse trip until I reached a set of closed metal doors, that I did not remember on my first trip down the blue mile. Well, some of those white-coated whisperers must have closed them, I thought to myself. Or for all I know, they could have totally been closed the first time around, but I, now possessing the attention span of a gnat, just don't remember. So I open them. Now let's see, this doesn't look familiar.

*boohoo*sniff*hoo*

Then I see him. It's a white-coated person who looks only hours older than my son. So I say, "Excuse me, Doogie. Obviously, I'm old and stupid and can't seem to back my way out of NUCLEAR MEDICINE as well as I thought, what with the blue line just suddenly disappearing and all. Could you please tell me where I could get me one of them bone DENSITY scans?" And he proceeded to not just give me directions, because clearly, anyone not able to back their way out of NUCLEAR MEDICINE via the blue line, cannot just be given directions all willy-nilly, but instead needs a personal escort. So there I am. Following this VERY YOUNG person in a white coat down a very short corridor back to the place I started. He could have stopped there. Thanks, I can take it from here. Maybe. But NO. He continues to lead the obviously inept woman around the desk, through the over-crowded waiting room, beside the escalators and all the way to the door. And then you know what he does? HE READS ME THE SIGN! hahahahaha I almost peed my pants. I think I muttered a "Thanks, Junior." And he continued, I'm certain, back into the epicenter, probably to cook up something noocular.

I got the stupid scan. Not a big deal. But just to top off the morning, and make sure my day turned out great, I got to hear someone tell me that my scan looks fine. I am perfectly dense. Yeah. OK. Thanks.