The Dystopian Times, 25. The New Normal at the Clinic

This morning I went to get my blood work done at the local clinic. The last time I went must have been two years ago, at the least. But it was a simple question of arriving around eight thirty, when the lab technicians opened shop. There is an area next to the pediatrician's consulting room where the labs are. In the larger one, there are three stations and a main desk. At eight thirty, the lab manager comes out, and calls a bunch of names, from four to six. Those called go in, wait a little, get stuck with needles, come out, and then some more people get called in. On a normal morning, the waiting area is filled, and the people wind up standing in the main hallway. 

Not any more. 

When I arrived, there was a long line outside the clinic, down the stairs, and along the sidewalk. I remembered how I had had to wait outside the emergency area, along with some others, when I visited last, in early July. Will they make everyone wait outside even in winter? Even when a stormy winter's morning lashes rain? I don't know if they can.

The line moved at a decent pace. At the entrance to the clinic, just inside the first set of doors, was a woman with a list. People were giving her their papers for the blood work, she checked off the names, and told each one where to go. "Hallway two, room 7." "Hallway one, room 2."

When it was my turn, she checked me off and told me to go to hallway three, room 13. I looked blankly. "All the way at the end?" I asked. She nodded. 

I went in. The consulting side of the building has three hallways perpendicular to the main hallway along the side of the building. The first one is where the labs and the pediatrician are. The second is where the afternoon doctors consult, and the third, which runs all along the back of the building and has a wall of windows looking out on a park, is for the morning doctors. That's where I went. 

I had on a new mask, and discovered that if I adjusted it well so that my glasses didn't fog up, I was breathing in the fabric. If I left the top a little loose, I could breathe well, but I might as well have been walking in a London fog of old. I took off my glasses and peered at the room numbers. I discovered 13, saw a woman inside, and waited out in the waiting room. Various chairs had tape over them, to keep people from sitting side by side. It seemed they were using all the nursing stations in the building, aside from the labs, to do analyses. It did speed up things, though.

It was my turn. I held out my arm, then grabbed the side of the chair, screwed my eyes shut, and waited for the needle. (Yes, I hate needles, I hate them, I hate them!) The nurse was worried, and kept asking me if I was going to faint. I explained that I didn't faint, I just hated the entrance of the needle into my vein with all my heart. After that, she took a long time to find my vein; a first. She finally decided to prick me near my wrist. Oh, great, I thought. The last time a needle was inserted there was when I was on the operating table before my caesarean, and they stretched out that arm on a board. I felt a very painful prick before the lights went out. And this nurse, almost twenty-four years later, decided on that vein. 

It did hurt, and I did feel the blood rushing out into the tubes, but I survived. She taped a gauze on the spot, and I left, walking past those who were walking in. Two women were stopped in the long hallway, and a nurse at the entrance called out to them to move and go to the room they had been told to go. The woman then talked to the friend with her, "Cantos maleducados, por Dios." (How many rude people, God.) I assume that the woman hadn't gone for blood work since the pandemic started, and though the woman at the entrance told her where to go, she didn't understand, and was lost, looking around. That is one of the problems with the new system, that the older people don't learn new routines easily. 

After that, I went home and ate breakfast, since I was raving hungry. Let's see what the results are. I suspect I know, and they're going to be good, I just wish I could see the results on the screen, like I used to before this. I liked to look at the total numbers, and sometimes ask the whys and wherefores of certain results. Oh, well. 

Life continues.