Tag: Hospitals

I do not currently know where I am – Pt. 2

*This post is a continuation of part 1.*

I found myself propped up anew on a very tribal-looking yet very comfy couch. The woman continued to look at me with the strangest grin as she flicked on the room’s two coconut-themed lamps. She was clearly going for some tropical motif, but it felt more like a doctor’s office containing a couch and two lamps.

“Who are you?” I asked in the awkward silence.

“Oh, you wouldn’t know me, hon, but I read yer blog-thing!”

I shuddered. “But my mother is the only one who reads my blog.”

She cackled as she lifted herself up onto yet another hospital bed, of which she apparently has several. “Well, no more o’ that. With the start of advanced content discovery algorithms, people from all ’round the world are able to access yer blog and be a part of yer quest to regain yer dignity. Remember? From yer first post, Seeing the glass half full? This is the culm’nation of yer master plan, a part of which I seek to be a part of which. I want you to fulfill yer destiny, and that’s why I brought you here.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, not understanding.

“Now which one was it where you said, ‘I’m so not with it that I could report myself missing. In fact I just might do that and hide in bed for a few days’? You said that, don’t you remember? It was in Three St. Andrew’s Hospitals too many, a Tragedy in one act–which, by the way, was an awesome title that got me so ready for yer hilarious story. I said, ‘This kid needs a break, and I’m going to give it to him,’ so I finally kidnapped you and gave you a hard earned chance to lie low for a while!”

I was in utter shock, dumfounded by what she was telling me.

“A thank ya’ would be nice!”

“I have no words. Y-y-you kidnapped me because you couldn’t see that I was joking, and now you want me to compliment you? As though you just did something good for me?”

“Don’t be such a square-head. This was what you wanted–you said that! You think it was easy to find the right guys who could nab you and bring you here and set up this hospital room with the right paint and the right bed and a lady to play the nurse just like in the real St. Andrew’s Hospital and make sure that you weren’t disturbed this whole time? Huh? You think it was easy?!”

“I was unconscious! I might have memory loss, plus I have a job and a life that only I can put on hold, not some random person that’s trying to stalk me! How did you even find me?”

“Mapquest.”

“But how did you find my address?”

“Oh, well that’s easy! I visited every Futuristic Coney Island franchise in the area and asked. Eventually someone knew what I’s talkin’ about.”

“I’m at a loss for words. This is so despicable, it’s–it’s–”

“–I see. So ya don’t appreciate yer readers.”

“I don’t give a flip about my readers, not one of them! What you’ve done is illegal!”

“Says the boy who has been hiding in my shed for three weeks.”

I stared at her.

“You think anyone’s gonna believe you now?”

It took me a few moments to realize that she was suggesting she’d blackmail me. It was true that I couldn’t prove she kidnapped me, and so I didn’t know what to say.

“One way or another,” she told me, “you’ll have to be realizin’ that I’m doin’ this all for you. We’re friends now, and if you won’t learn that the easy way and just accept my help and support, then yer gonna learn it the hard way, which I haven’t figured out yet, but it won’t be as easy as the easy way I can assure you. Are you gonna stay here for a little while, or are you gonna try an’ escape like a coward?”

“I’m not going to try and escape,” I said.

“Good,” she said. “So first thing’s first–”

“I’m just going to escape,” I said, and I smashed the button that tilts her bed. She flew backward onto the floor in a twisty manner.

I jumped to my feet and hobbled through the house to the front door and outside.

I looked both ways down the neighborhood street and crossed it.

She opened the door, yelling, “You’re not gettin’ away, coward!” and chased me as best she could.

Both with limps now, we gave good chase for about twenty minutes before reaching the next street. I waved as a taxi was driving by, and the driver waved back with a smile.

We turned the corner and made our way out of the neighborhood, and I spotted a grocery store on the corner. In its direction I stumbled.

A boy scout was standing outside the door: “Troop 121B – Camp Yankee Dolphin welcomes you to Greene’s Grocer. Would you like to donate $10 to support children in impoverished areas prepare for the school year?”

“Not today, thank you.”

“You get free popcorn!”

“Anyone who would change their mind after learning about free popcorn is an evil person.”

“Well at least fill out this survey for–“

“–I just don’t have time right now!”

I burst through the doors, feeling a bit like a heel. Speaking of heels, my pusuer was on mine. She paused by the boy scout, though. She started talking with him. I took the opportunity to escape.

I hid in the bathroom for what seemed like an hour but was really only 53:22. After I left, the building was empty and the lights were off. I walked up to the front doors and just barely pulled them open–and trust me, it took a lot of pried on my part. An alarm sounded, but I had enough, so I took to the nearest diner I saw and had a lot of freedom fries while I had the opportunity.

I hitchhiked my way home through midnight, but I’m quite certain that this is not over.

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I do not currently know where I am – Pt. 1

Good morning. I assume it’s the morning anyway. I can’t see outside.

I’m sorry I haven’t blogged in a while. I’ve been really busy the last few weeks, eating, drinking, sleeping, getting kidnapped, and having to bring the car in to get repaired.

Note: That’s not a chronological list.

I was on my way home from work when it happened; it’s only a walk for five minutes to the warehouse from home that I take when I don’t have my car, and it was during the return walk at 8-of-the-evening-clock when it did happen.

Where? I don’t remember. Not far.

Who? I couldn’t catch their faces, but they were well-built and wore coveralls, and I did see a van that was parked close by. There were ladders on this van. Perhaps they were a gang of commercial painter/hoodlums or something, but they were definitely shady.

I am currently at St. Andrew’s Hospital, and I’ve been told by the staff that I’ve been here for more than a week. Nobody knows who the mugs were. Or they won’t tell me. That’s a possibility, because they are very weird here.

They have the curtains closed, so I can’t see outside. I’d ask to be sat up–I’m too weak to help myself–but the nurse just says no. Playing with the buttons didn’t do anything but help me raise my legs or tilt to either side. Then I’d ask for water but she says no. I’ve asked several times for her to open the window but she tells me that I need more rest and sunlight will make it hard for me to rest so just rest please and stop asking about the flipping window.

They won’t let me eat anything but McDonald’s. I have nothing against McDonald’s, but I don’t really have anything for it, either, and so it’s strange to be both willing to eat hospital food and still being denied.

I do actually need water. I’m writing this post as I wait for the nurse to come with it finally.

[…]

And now I have it. She asked what I was writing and I told her the truth–I’m blogging. She asked what about and I lied–self-help. Now she’s gone.

The fact is that I’m the one who needs help. I feel trapped. I am trapped. I feel, therefore I am. Q.E.D.

I called the warehouse an hour ago on my bedside phone and got no response, despite the fact that the wall clock read 9:30, so either the clock is inaccurate or Wally left his office key home. It wouldn’t be the first time. He lives a half-hour away. All highway miles. Forty-five minutes away when he wakes up late.

I can’t concentrate. I’m seeing colors. No wait, that’s just a memory. Blood everywhere. No wait, that’s red paint. Hang on, I’m getting something. It was a red building. A barn? No, it wasn’t a barn. A fire station? No, just be quiet for a minute and let me think. I don’t know. It’s all so foggy. London? No, leave me alone!

I have to get out of here. I inch myself to the edge of my bed but lose all strength. I sit for a while and then think of a joke: “Why didn’t the standard, foot-long ruler get lonely? Because a metric ruler was centimeter!”

On the count of three I lifted myself to my feet and, with great doing, had stumbled to the wall to support myself.

Floor tile after floor tile after floor tile, I watched the floor tiles pass under me as I passed over them without passing out. Before I knew it, I was at the door. *bump* Ouch! I hit my head on said door. I opened it.

Much to my discombobulation, I observed what appeared to be the inside of a small garage marked with gardening equipment and a small mower. The garage door was open, and the yard outside was a beautifully landscaped site, with flowers running along a proper wooden fence, huge trees canvassing the whole yard like a local politician, and a sprinkler making its spritzy rounds across the green grass.

I shed the garage and saw that there stood a very fine, very immaculate stone-wall house just at the end of the yard, facing away from me. I walked slowly and with great pain to the front lawn and saw that the lights were on.

I jumped back before anyone might’ve been able to see me. Crouching, I snuck around to the side of the house and peered in, shaking. I saw no one.

Just as I started stealthily crossing back to the front and heading down the driveway to the sidewalk, a big, old, loud red truck zoomed up the street and parked in front of the house. Panicked, I ran, lopsided and limping, as fast as I could away and down the street.

“Hey,” the driver of the truck, an older woman, 50s or so, a Taurus surely, shouted as she slammed her door and pursued me. “You can’t leave!” she followed up.

I couldn’t run any longer. I stopped and got down on the ground. “Leave me alone!” I shouted. “I don’t know who you are! Just leave me alone!”

She came closer and stared down at me as I tried to regain my breath. “I know who you are!” she said, smirking a smirk of evil while laughing. She dragged me back to the house.

*This post will be continued.*

The Franklin Counter: Old veterinary hospital gets new equipment

*This article from The Franklin Counter was reprinted with permission.*

Did you know that there are more than one thousand animals in the universe? I just found that out today.

A surgeon at the veterinary hospital here in Schumacher shared some exciting news with the world via the hospital’s Facebook account about the positron emission tomography facility that puts the “heart” in “state-of-the-art.”

DR. SHANE Grilla, M.D., N.Y.P.D., R.O.C.K. in the U.S.A., the head surgeon at New Haven Veterinary/Cemetery, had much to say about the new cellular-level imaging machine.

“I’m glad that we could have this discussion on this fine day,” he started off in a discussion I had with him on Thursday. “I would firstly like to thank the veterinary hospital (from now on to be referred to as ‘the Hospital’), the incredible management team that helps guide our operations to the highest standards (‘the Management’), and also everyone else who has participated with the hospital over the years to keep our doors open and keep our animals in good shape (‘the Animals’).

“What this new imaging center will enable us to do at the Hospital is find and treat the Animal’s illnesses much faster than ever before. Animals are just like humans in regards to their susceptibility to tumors and other (sic.) interminal difficulties, so being able to scan them quickly and with atom-splitting accuracy is… quite good, for lack of a more enthusiastic term.”

DR. JAN Adieu, M.D.-V.R., New Haven’s shoulder surgeon, agreed.

“I’m very, VERY excited that we have access to this kind of new, crazy, VERY cool tech that we can use to do so many things! We can do PET scans in the blink of an eye, SUPER fast!”

“You mean you’re a veterinary hospital and only now you can do PET scans?” I inquired at her own respective discussion while trying desperately to remain impartial.

“Well,” she began politely, although I could tell she was flustered by my obvious wit, “we’ve always had the capacity to take PET scans, OBVIOUSLY, of course. Now we can just get them as fast as our CAT scans, FAST!”

“Which aren’t as useful?” I asked, although I knew I was right.

“Not for most cases, no,” she confirmed.

Indeed, New Haven has an incredible collection of medical machines for pettable patients, one of the largest in the country (not to mention one of the most expensive)! Of only 200 models produced of the well-known medical supply conglomerate Mobayashi Karu’s now discontinued K05#-ER Scanner System, 1 is housed in New Haven’s own vet hospital. With already more computers and sensors than staff–and they have a surgeon designated for each part of the body!–the new PET-scan facility makes it an even more impressive inventory (and one that would surely be hard to account for should anything get stolen).

“As an animal owner, I’m real happy to hear about them bringing in this new thing at our local vet to help keep our animals healthy,” FARMER BILBOY Tugg wrote in a recent editorial.

The farmer brings in livestock for regular scans to determine which to sell for processing and which to “clean up a little” first.

“It works out well,” he added. “It’s quick, it’s convenient, and it’s covered by insurance. Those three things will justify anything in a business.”

The hospital has been reaching out to the farming industry in an attempt to re-brand itself, especially since their unprofitable cemetery and palliative care services have been keeping them in the hole for the last few quarters.

Dr. Shane explains, “We really don’t have much choice but to run this organization like a business. We’re at the forefront of technology in the state but receive no government funding, so there are no promises that we can make about how we operate, except for when it involves being at the forefront of technology. At least this is how I see it. You’ll have to speak with the Management for further details. Must be 18 years or older to call.”

With the plans of killing the cemetery gig, it is unclear what direction the city’s zoning committee will want to take with the remaining parcels of land that New Haven Cemetery will presumably want to sell, but for the sake of the neighboring business owners let’s hope that this direction is the same one as the rest of the city. As for where Shane Grilla and Jan Adieu take the hospital and its many residents, I see them going no where but up!

Three St. Andrew’s Hospitals too many, a Tragedy in one act

I’ve had a very long day, longer than I would have preferred or could have prepared for. It’s involved several forms of transportation across the state and away from work, which sounds like a relief until you realize that I was on an absolutely unnecessary business trip that involved too many hospitals of the same name. Let me expound.

Yesterday for Watson Elementary’s middle school commencement–assured to be a marvelous affair year after year–there were meant to be multicolored streamers available for decorating the gym walls. These streamers were nowhere to be found, told us Principal RILEY Stirrup early this morning, who had ordered the streamers via http://www.endlessssupply.com, one of our company’s biggest online-delivery-service clients. This delay, this one instance of misplaced customer dissatisfaction, was enough to set Wally on one of his the-customer-is-always-right skirmishes, and I, of course, was the first person he saw to help.

Since 7:30 a.m. it has been a relationship-reaffirming road trip with my boss and me and our two-stones-worth of fancy paper.

“Do you think we should stop for some breakfast before we hit the highway?” he started off.

“Did you recruit me so that I could help you make this decision?”

“No, I just thought we might need it.”

“We need this car, but is that something you think we need to go get?”

He glanced sideways. “If you don’t want breakfast, then fine. I’ve always been kind of a go-getter, but we can wait if you’d prefer.”

We were off on a tangent and then on the road.

Now, something worth understanding about where I live is the roadwork.

Wally took a detour from Exit 48 to 49.

The overpass at 49 was closed down to one-way traffic.

We sat staring at a red stop sign for 5 minutes before they waved us through. And Led was on the radio during that wait.

At 12:30 we reached the school. At 12:43 we got the chance to hang a left and actually go into the driveway. At 12:52 we found a parking spot.

The doors to the administrative offices were locked because their walls were being repainted–no surprise there. We dropped our parcels outside the door, and then we just had to find where our executive officer was hiding. Where do you imagine management would be at this time?

Why, the hospital, where else? St. Andrew’s Hospital, according to the lady cleaning the halls at the time. (JANET R.? I didn’t ask for a name.) Try the emergency entrance desk for directions; Mr. Stirrup had a concussion this morning.

Sad news, but we there was no time for comfortable conversation. I punched it into Wally’s truck’s GPS’s search bar, and guess how many addresses came up?

It’s four. (Yes, four. See, three too many. 1+3=4. QED.) And we had no idea which one this “Mr. Stirrup” was at.

The first we went to was actually a cluster of satellite practices.

The second one had nobody by the of name Riley Stirrup.

The third was closed for construction. It looked kind of shady.

The fourth and final one, which we crawled into, was the largest of them all. There the receptionist (TERRY?) told us that they did have a Riley Stirrup but that he wasn’t expecting guests. We told him that we didn’t expect him to be in the hospital, and at that he let us go up to his 4th floor room, suggesting we take the stairs.

“Mr. Stirrup?” Wally opened with, along with the door.

“Yes?” Riley said, sitting up and closing his magazine on a finger.

“I understand that you never received the party streamers that you ordered from http://www.endlessssupply.com? Well, my associate and I happen to be suppliers for that service, and we just delivered your streamers this afternoon.”

“…Okay, cool.”

“….”

“We were going to send someone to the hobby store or something, but I guess that works.”

“….”

“Appreciate it, thanks, guys.” He then lifted his magazine once again.

We saw ourselves out the same way we came in, namely a state of–now extreme–hunger. We picked up fast food and drove home in silence.

I asked Wally when we got back at the warehouse if he was satisfied with his work for the day. “Gotta do whatcha-gotta do,” he said and walked away.

I questioned Wally’s true feelings when I found out later that he was closing down the http://www.endlessssupply.com account.

What I want to know is this: why St. Andrew? Because after some quick research, I found that Andrew is the patron saint of fishing and Germany, neither of which have much significance for the area. Maybe the hospital founder was an Andrew, or maybe they started small and drew more people in. I don’t know. I’m just exhausted right now. Deflated. I’m so not with it that I could report myself missing. In fact I just might do that and hide in bed for a few days.