Monday, October 13, 2008

Bleary Eyed

I'm tired.

There just aren't any other words for it.

I got up extra early yesterday, since I had promised to accompany a neighbor to the hospital for a minor operation. It didn't involve hospitlization, but I didn't want her being alone or coming home without someone.

We got to the hospital amazingly quickly. Our second "tremp," (ride,) a driver we didn't even know, insisted that it wasn't really out of his way to take us there. Since we were so early, my friend bought herself breakfast before signing in.

And then things got more complicated. We were sent from one floor to another and then back again and yet again, until someone explained that we needed yet another office and form. Finally, after phones and faxes and more calls and faxes, we had everything and went back to the first clerk for the third or more time.

I didn't stand on line but went to the side of the counter and put on my nicest smile and my firmest, no-nonsense voice:

"You remember us. Don't you?"

And I shoved the forms at her. She looked over, nodded and took them. After she finished what she was doing, she quickly processed my friend and sent us off to another reception area. My friend handed in her file and was told to wait. And we did, and we did. The crowded room began to empty.

It was over an hour later, when I got the call about my uncle. No privacy, but since they were all strangers... And we kept on waiting. The room was getting much too empty. Finally, they called her, but she returned quickly, since that was just the first check-up of the procedure. It was over two hours after her appointment, and still we were waiting.

We asked at the desk:

"I don't know. You just have to keep waiting."

So we did. But then it looked like hardly anyone else was there and it was almost three hours after the operation was supposed to be. Back to the clerk who finally agreed to search the little treatment rooms and find out what was happening.

"You're next for Room 9."

And we waited some more. By then we were numb and hungry. My friend went into the treatment area. The clerk was too tired to stop her.

"There are still people there."

We changed to more comfortable chairs. She scouted the room again but didn't return so quickly. Then there she was:

"You're not going to believe this. The surgeon said:"
"The risks outway the benefits. Come back for another check-up in six months."

Considering all, it was hard to complain, and we were too tired and too hungry.

And now I'm up extra early again. There's lots to do before the chag and before Yehudit's funeral. The kids, G-d willing, are coming, too.

Chag Succot Sameach

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