"Remoted" – Workday 137 / Day 199 (Thursday)

 Today had multi-tiered fun which actually began a couple days ago when a phone call to confirm an appointment went to voice mail. The message began midstream, with “5 am appointment. To confirm, press 1.” Of course, when hearing it in voice mail, you can’t press to confirm. And my heart skipped a beat at hearing “5 am” until I realized it was in progress and chopped off the beginning of 7:45. There was no phone number in the message to call to confirm, but it reminded me of the letter from Lowell General about my appointment with an invitation to do “express registration” in advance of the appointment.

“Express registration” sounded fun, like the quick check-in process for a Southwest Airlines boarding group assignment. It was not like that. “Express” had nothing to do with the registration process. Far too much valuable quality time was spent on a website providing my life story, along with that of my next of kin. Seriously, the form was so long, halfway through I called the number in the reminder letter instead, giving me a glorious 12 minutes and 46 seconds on hold before hanging up without yet reaching a human. It was back to the web form, still displayed on my screen. 

In all, “Express Registration” took close to thirty minutes, partly because there was math involved. I needed to calculate the birthdate of my next of kin (Mom) for a mandatory field, because I didn’t know the year and I didn’t want to call and ask and feel like loser daughter of the year for not knowing. And why do they need the birthdate of the next of kin? Cripes. They already had relationship, address, and the phone number I had to look up because it wanted actual numbers and kept rejecting “Mom” like I type it into my phone. Thanks to cell phones, I don’t know anyone’s number.

Today was the appointment – a glorious annual procedure for women that is covered by my insurance. The one where body parts get brutally smashed (the tech called it “compressed”) between two plates and imaged. So, so much fun.

After scoring a parking spot right away, it was a stop at the check-in station just inside the entrance. A young attendant ran through the list of COVID symptom questions which included headache. I probably should have just shut up, but I confessed to the headaches. Panic struck and she ran to fetch backup. Her panic caused me to panic a little. Another professional appeared, ran through the list of symptoms, and after verifying that headache was my sole symptom, allowed me to pass.

At the official Registration/Check-in, the process was complicated by the sound of the loudest vacuum on the planet echoing throughout the area. The desk attendant and I shouted over the noise and across our socially distant span and then I was sent across the waiting room to radiology. The vacuum stopped briefly, but resumed as I reached the next check-in desk, requiring more shouting.

Then I got to change into the little half gown and wait for my turn in a tiny stall. I used my time wisely and took changing stall selfies. When it was my turn for the fun room, I gathered my clothes, clutched my top closed, and followed the tech down the hall. 

Feeling small in a 
small cubicle. 

The room temperature, probably ideal for the equipment, was freezing for this half-dressed person. The machine was pinchy. And the tech had a screwy way of saying when to not breathe that had me not breathing too early and feeling like I might keel over and rip off a body part. First, I have the lung capacity of a cadaver, and that’s on a good day. She didn’t say, “Ok, take a deep breath and hold it.” She said, “breathe normally” then there was a pause and suddenly, “Now hold.” And it never once synched with my actual breathing, making the 97 images more miserable because suddenly all I wanted to do was inhale. Plus, I was half naked and freezing. It was soon over, and I could get my clothes back on and get out of there.

Thankfully, it was quick. After a quick stop at Family Dollar, which had the brown sugar and Bisquick I forgot the last time, but not a roll of paper towels to be found anywhere, I was back home and online at the regular time. Whew!