Who knew that 4 hours in a Quest Diagnostics waiting room would give me such a view into other people’s lives? I certainly had not the slightest clue. But, alas, it did.
I finally took the 3 hour glucose tolerance test today. I’ll have the failing results soon. As I sat in the waiting room a lot happened. It was crowded when I first got there so no room for the preggie chick to sit. That was fine. A couple of people offered me their seats, but I declined. About 10 minutes later I was sorry I declined, but whatever.
An old man who saw a little girl vacate her seat asked her if he could sit down there. She, all of 8 years old, said “sure” and grinned at him. He sat down and as he did so he said “this will give an old man a break off of his old bones for awhile” and smiled sweetly.
The girl’s dad (we’ll call him AM for Anger Management) told the old man if he was tired of waiting then he could have made an appointment. The old man, possibly hard of hearing, asked AM what he said. Well that did it right there. AM went on a rampage with gestures and cursing and threats of kicking the old man’s butt.
The waiting room turned into a sea of shocked expressions and gasps and a whole bunch of people trying not to look and a few younger men getting ready to pounce on the younger AM (maybe in his 40s) if he touched the old man (probably in his 80s). Could have cut the air with a knife.
I held my pregnant belly and got as close to the door as I could just incase AM had a knife or a gun. He was hostage taking material. Definitely needed to be medicated or locked up for sure. I slipped my other hand in my purse, opened my cell phone, and was ready with my finger on the “9” incase 911 had to be called. Then I began to pray — for peace in the room, for AM’s salvation, for the poor little girl who had a father like that (she was visibly embarrassed), for the old man to keep his cool, for the rest of the men in the room to act like they were keeping their cool, for the lady behind the counter to come back and call my name. Oh it was intense.
About 4 minutes later she called my name. Thank you God for glucose tolerance testing which puts you in front of the line no matter when you signed in. Whew!!!!
After my first blood draw I sat down to read my book (thank you SW) in the lobby — AM was gone and so was the old man he threatened, and the room was filled with new faces. The glucose drink I had just sucked down like a shot of a purple hooter (shot of flavored alcohol that I used to frequent) was going straight to my head. I was dizzy and a little nauseous and hungry (3 hr gt test is on a fast) and just about to fall asleep in my uncomfortable chair when this well-groomed young woman sat next to me. She smiled, she smelled good, I smiled, she sat down, I continued to read, she picked up her cell phone and dialed her voice mail (I could hear it) and then she returned the call. [big sigh]
She couldn’t see that I was trying to read. No wait. She didn’t care. She wanted to talk on her phone and that was a perfect time to do it seeing as how she had all the privacy of a person who is standing in the middle of Magic Kingdom at Disney. But I’m being sarcastic.
Internally I rolled my eyes. I was in no mood and I was losing my grip on reality (glucose drinks will mess with your mind when your stomach is empty). I could no longer concentrate on my book and since I could hear everything she was saying as well as the person on the other end of her line, I decided to listen to her conversation. Why not? She didn’t seem to mind. Why would she? Privacy had nothing on her.
I wish I hadn’t. The person on the other end of the line was a man who was trying to be nice while telling her she was behind on her credit card payment and that he had just taken the payment out of her checking account. She told him she didn’t authorize that transaction until the end of the month. He tried to convince her that he had to do it per the terms of the agreement. She begged him to put the money back because she was already overdrawn on the checking account. He must be the most compassionate creditor on the face of this earth because he agreed to do it — just this once — as long as she realized he was going to take it back out again in a little over 2 weeks and that, from then on, it would come out on the 10th of each month.
I wanted to write her a check. I wanted to give her the $60 payment and just come online here and tell you guys that I need to cancel my offer on the whole shoes deal because I met a woman in need at Quest and I gave her the money instead.
I have this urge to save the people drowning in this economy. I am so grateful for our monetary blessings, but I cannot ignore the hurting around me. It makes me ache. But I can’t save them all. I can give to worthy causes. I can help friends and family if they’ll let me. But I can’t save perfect strangers. For all I know, she could have spent her money in stupid ways and that’s why she’s “in the hole”. Maybe she didn’t lose her job. Maybe she’s just irresponsible. How would I know? Anyway, back to drama…
Finally I get to give my 2nd round of blood. Yes!! One hour down, 2 more to go! The guy who is taking my blood is hysterical and he tells me that I can actually leave for the next hour as long as I promise not to eat, drink, or do any rigorous exercise. I agree and off I go to Sears.
I head for the Halloween costumes because the big red sign says 75% off. My son (2 1/2) loves to dress up. The sad thing is that all we have to dress him up in are tutus, high heels, angel wings, and purses. He doesn’t mind, but I am sort of thinking maybe he ought to have Spider Man or something like that. I found a Dinosaur costume and decided that was “the one”. But trying to dig for it was an event. There was a flock of women almost throwing punches at each other as they flew through the racks of Halloween costumes. I grabbed the Dinosaur and got the heck out of there. When I paid for it I understood why all the cattiness at the costume racks. That costume was originally $15. I paid $1.50 for it. Yeah. No wonder those women were pulling each other’s hair and gouging eyeballs. I get it now.
Back to Quest — another room of different faces. Not as crowded this time. In to give my blood and out to CVS pharmacy. I get the pleasure of a smoking woman outside of the building complaining on the phone that if a person was a real doctor he wouldn’t work at CVS pharmacy. Uh? What? They are pharmacists, not doctors, and I really need to stop eavesdropping on people’s conversations. Inside every aisle of junk food was begging me to walk down them and buy something. I was feeling it in a big way and the lightheadedness hadn’t faded. I bought a bottle of water, caught up on all the gossip magazine headlines (because who really is brave enough to pick one up and actually flip through it), drooled over some make up that I want but don’t need, laughed as I passed by the feminine products aisle, and then out the door I went.
Third and last draw — I had to beat the guy who locks the door for lunch at noon. I made it with 5 minutes to spare. I stuck my face in a magazine so I wouldn’t have to see the door because I knew some people would try to come in and realize it was locked and then get downright ticked right there in open glass windowville. I pretended not to hear or see them when it happened. And it did happen — three times.
I gave my last vial of blood and then went to lunch. By myself. At Bob Evans. And there was no more drama. And I ate in peace. And I enjoyed every last bite. Especially the pumpkin bread that I smothered in butter. I also loved the coffee and the tomato juice and the freezing cold water and the soup and the salad. I didn’t rush. I took my time. I earned it.
So much drama in such unexpected places. I guess that’s life.
Any drama in
that you’ve witnessed lately?