Thursday, June 3, 2010

The remains of the ---- cake.

I have been swamped at work.  Really swamped, plus DH is out of town.  So not much time for blogging.

Moe and I are chowing down on some of the mint cake brought for Curly's graduation.  It is yummy, in fact it's slap yo mama delicious.  Mmm chocolate and cake and mint.  What could be better?  I'm sorry I can't share with you.

I've been so busy I haven't been able to write.  So I decided to share something I wrote a long time ago.  Some years ago, I got a CPAP machine (it changed my life - can't sleep without it!) and I wrote this about the process of getting it.  So enjoy.

This is an old musing which many have laughed at, written in 2001.
A Good Girl Gone Bad
This is a sad and sordid tale.
In early August, my internist proposed I get a sleep study. I'd been tired and not sleeping well for some time. A lot of this had to do with some meds I was taking (which we changed), but I've known about my snoring problem for years. I snored in college, and I wasn't even fat then. Now I snore a lot, and loudly. The sinus surgery I had 3 years before actually made it worse since it re-routed drainage down the back of my throat. I just don't sleep worth a durn. I have friends with c-pap units, and it's made a world of difference for them. So I said fine to the sleep study.
To get a sleep study, I had to see a pulmonary specialist. I'm in an HMO, so I'm limited to whom I see. I got scheduled for the pulmonary guy - I managed to weasel an appointment at the end of August. He referred me over to the sleep clinic, and we had major trouble getting the sleep study scheduled. I finally got an appointment to spend the night of November 19th - last night.
It's kind of a deal to get scheduled and get off. DH had been out of town a lot, so I had to lay down the law with him & his job about him being home. Then I had to get everything ready for me and the kids for in the morning, since I wouldn't be there. Medicine, day care money, etc. Plus my stuff. And as sleep clinic is close to my office, which makes it about 28 miles from my house. I had to be there by 8:30 pm. So I kissed the kids and hit the road.
As I got off at the sleep clinic's exit, a huge SUV zipped in front of me and slammed on its brakes at the light. A big Monterro or Explorer, a monster vehicle. On the back was a sticker that said "Stupidity should be painful." "Hmmmm," I thought. "Hmmm."  The light changed, and the monster truck roared left into the parking lot ahead of me, the parking lot for the building with the sleep clinic. Since it was night, there were lots of empty places. I picked one and parked. I noticed the monster truck had maneuvered into the spot closest to the building - a handicapped spot. The driver was hanging the temp handicapped tag from the mirror. He got out - a tall, skin headed young guy, about 22. Definitely not handicapped. He had a backpack on and he pushed into the building ahead of me. I have a thing about folks parking in handicapped spots who aren't handicapped. I hated him.
I got to the sleep clinic area only to see the non-handicapped monster truck guy getting taken back to get his monitoring equipment put on. He evidently was to have a study too. (Why?) I looked for someone to help me, and then wondered idlely why I hadn't gotten a confirmation call for my appointment. I soon found out.
A nice man came to help. Quelle horreur! Someone had screwed up royally (not me) and had left my name off the list for the night. And all the beds were full. There must have been some bad mix up - could I come another night? - the next appointment is in 6 weeks!?! I very kindly did not decapitate him, which I thought was excellent manners. Didn't he know what a deal this was? And I'd been waiting since fucking AUGUST? (I did refrain from the use of profanity - also good manners.) But yelling and screaming would not have changed the situation. He gave me the name of someone to call in the morning and I stormed off.
I walked through the halls, thinking bad thoughts:
I've been waiting since fucking August!
That non-handicapped monster truck guy got in - why not me?
He's about 20 and I'm 44 - I'm older and more deserving!
I've been waiting since fucking August!
If that stupid guy hadn't been there, I would have a space.
That little fucker took my slot - and he parked in handicapped!
I've been waiting since fucking August and he took my slot!
I got outside and saw the monster SUV parked in handicapped. That's where I snapped.
Now, I've never been violent. I've always been a good girl. As a teen, I never threw eggs or bottles or toilet paper, no malicious pranks. I don't engage in road rage. I do sometimes get my way through force of personality - once I made a Walmart checkout clerk cry, but I felt bad and apologized. And I'm not above the occasional practical joke. But I've never put my anger into physical action. Until now.
I thought "Stupidity SHOULD be painful!" and went to my car to get an instrument of destruction. I knew just the right one - a tire gauge I had received in the mail. It was metal, had a sharp tip to serve my purpose, and could be easily palmed. I went back to the monster truck, stood just in front of the driver's door, and went to work.
It took a while. I didn't worry about getting caught. There was no traffic in the parking lot and nobody was walking through it. Besides, who would believe me, a respectable looking woman, would be guilty of such a thing? When I finished that section, I thought about doing more, working all around the car. But I had tired of the game and decided to go home.
I got in my respectable minivan and drove past the monster SUV in the handicapped zone, so that I could admire my work. Ah yes, that stupid boy will be sorry. HE won't be going anywhere in the morning. Not with that flat tire. (I had put the tire valve cap back on after I deflated the tire - once again, good manners.)
(Did you really think I would scratch up his car? Shame on you! Though it crossed my mind....)
I called my husband and told him I was on my way back home. He didn't seem to notice that it only took me 20 minutes to drive the 28 miles. He laughed when I told my tale. He said he'd have had a hard time explaining this if I'd been caught and put in jail. "They wouldn't put ME in jail for such a thing!" I retorted. "Besides, that punk took my spot!"
Now I need to call the sleep study supervisor. Heh, heh.
Stupidity should be painful.
I promise not to do such a thing again. Amen.

1 comment:

  1. If I could write as well as you do, I'd be working at a newspaper or magazine! How about movie scripts? Do you have to redraft these gems, or do they just come rolling off the top of your head and onto the computer?

    You tell the most amazing stories and in such an entertaining way! One minute I'm laughing hysterically, next I'm holding my breath wondering what's go to happen!

    I can't believe so much goofy stuff happens to you - although I've certainly had some exasperating experiences, and my husband thinks I 'over-react' when I tell him my woes about dealing with store clerks or trying to get through to a 'person' when calling a company.

    However, your experiences really do take the cake! (Pun intended - since this post started with that yummy-looking cake!)

    I've heard of CPAP machines but had no idea what they were. Apparently you have (had?) sleep apnea, which I'm sure was quite distressing.

    And you must have finally got your appointment. Don't even get me started on the craziness of the medical system.