Enough with the hearts and flowers already; time for a Saturday rant.

Okay, me first.

Today was a fairly decent day, much like Monday.  I left the house alone.  I ran errands.  I made a circuit of five stores, spent about two hours, and then came home and slept off my exhaustion for three.

But let me tell you about my first stop on this grand tour.

I went to the post office to pick up some mailing boxes.  The post office closes at 1:00 p.m. on Saturdays; I got there at about 12:40.  There was a long line, and it got longer after me, nearly out the door.  I feel fairly confident in saying that we all had other things to do besides stand there waiting, but big deal, right?  You go to the post office any time between Thanksgiving and Christmas Day, and you wait in line, especially if you get there within a half hour of closing.  It's just life.  It's just how it is for everyone.  If you're smart, you expect this and bring a book or something.  If not, like me, you chastise yourself (and no one else) for forgetting, and then you stand there and kind of zone out until it's your turn to be served.

Now, because I was zoning out I am not sure exactly how this happened, but shortly after my arrival in line, voices at the counter were raised.  Tallish, red-faced, middle-aged preppy guy told deferent but not obsequious postal worker in no uncertain terms, "I was just on the phone to a patient in critical condition at Emerson Hospital!"

"That right?"

"I got OFF that call so I could speak to you!"

("So what?" asked my true love when I told him this story later.

"Well, exactly," I replied.)

Apparently this person was a Doctor.  Apparently the postal worker had deigned to serve someone else first because this person stayed on the phone when he got to the counter even though there was a huge line out the door.

When the postal worker turned his attention to Doctor Man's business, Doctor Man took his time.  I stood there behind an elderly arthritic in my ill-fitting prosthetic leg socket for a good ten minutes before his business was concluded and the line crept forward, and then he was in such a hurry and so pressed for his precious, precious time that on his way out he stopped to shoot the sh*t with an almost identical buddy and/or colleague standing further back in line closer to the door.

I waited so long in line, on my feet, in my ill-fitting prosthetic socket, that by the time it was my turn to drag myself to the counter, my left hip was screaming in pain.  And yet I somehow managed not to make an enormous bitch of myself, just as the elderly arthritic in front of me somehow managed not to be a complete jerk when it was his turn.  I conducted my business cheerfully and efficiently and dragged myself out the door.  The doors were locked by this time, incidentally, and yet there was still a line behind me of at least five customers.

Oh, and Doctor Man was still chatting with one of them, his pal.

Here's my rant.

Point 1:  I have had an ostensibly terminal illness for nearly 30 years.  I have had a cell phone for seven or eight.  In all that coinciding time, I have never once found it necessary to multitask at someone else's expense.  And I promise you, most days NO ONE is in a bigger hurry than I am to conclude tedious little chores and move on to something more interesting.  For some reason.

Point 2:  Each of my doctors has made more money this year than I have made in the last ten.  When any of my doctors speaks with me on the phone, s/he'd f*cking well better not be buying stamps at the same time.  Pay scale considerations aside, when I speak to a doctor on the telephone, we are discussing life-and-death stuff, my life and my death.  I find it completely reasonable to expect that said doctor will therefore give me his or her undivided attention for the entire duration of the conversation, no matter how badly s/he needs to mail a package.  If my doctor cannot find the time to give me his or her undivided attention every time s/he speaks to me, I suggest s/he find someone else to run to the post office.  I have a sneaking suspicion s/he can afford to hire someone for just this purpose.

End rant.  Your turn.

Comments

[BipolarLawyerCook]

Amen, Sister. I admit to being on the phone while I do other things, but I always get off when it's time to pay the postman, or the toll collector, or give serious legal advice.

[kathy a.]

that. sucks.

also, i think i know that dude. he's the attending we fired, because he was so important and busy that he couldn't bother to write a disability letter that we needed to take care of mom's financial and legal stuff. also, it turns out he doesn't read faxes or return phone calls. additionally, he thought that he's so freaking brilliant that he should give me legal advice. which was wrong, by the way.

[Scriptor Senex]

Oh I could rant for hours - well, pages, well lines and lines and lines (you know what I mean) on this topic. But my favourite doctor was one I met when testing me for my DHSS benefit. Because I have little in the way of sensory sensation (apart from pain!) she suggested I could be a spy because they couldn't torture me. I think she was more lacking in semsitivy nerves than sensory nerves! Then again there's the doctor who.... Oh forget it.

[laurie]

That kind of inconsiderate behaviour drives me wild. I really get pissed off with people who believe their time to clearly be more valuable than anyone else's.

[aura]

Hi,
I love you Sara.

Sorry to all of you for inflicting personal news onto this public blog.

1st, toast and also plain crackers work because they absorb the stomach acids.

2nd, I am envious of your bundt pan!

3rd loved the application to menstruate. Here is another little bit of news... Have a major, long enduring trauma in your life and you will never menstruate again. (Don't know why this doesn't work for you Sara.) No hot flashes, nothing. Poof, it just goes away and then one day, two and a half years later, you notice that it's been quite a while since you had one.

Avi is starting an awesome job tomorrow. PHEW!!!!!

My father had a terrible, very avoidable, accident that nearly killed him two weeks ago and I spent three days in the hospital with him. He is fine now but YUCK!!!

The kids are doing fine and so am I.

Love to Your True Love and Sam.

[aura]

Two more bits of exciting news: I made my own sourdough starter. The bread I made with it was kind of not great but the pizza crusts were fabulous!

I have been pruning this week and only have two more trees to go! This is not counting 40 roses, but I will do them next week. Delightfully, now that Avi has a good job, I can tend my orchard again and not JUST work. (I still do work about 14 hours a day though.)

[Jay]

I am glad that Avi got a new job. Hope he enjoys and that you get your yardwork done. How is your daughter doing?

BTW, Sara doesn't need any encouragement to rant, she had it down to a science when I was a teenager. She could do equally well ranting against some perceived inequity that either Lynn or I would have perpetrated or use Alfred to rant for her.

Mind sharing the starter recipe?

Thanks.

Jay

[Amorette]

Don't you just love it? That attitude in physicians is utterly rampant. It's one reason I'm now convinced that I would have eventually burned out on a career in medicine, had my body not had the prudence to burn out on me first.

I hate the post office too, but for different reasons which I think I may have shared before. (To paraphrase you from the other day, indulge me ;)

Entry can only be gained by climbing a steep flight of steps, ending at a very narrow landing over which the door swings outward. If you're coming up (hand over hand on the rail, as I've had to) and someone inside is coming out, you must back down the steps to allow them to pass, or else scoot to one side and hope that Jill doesn't come tumbling after.

And when I asked if there was access for those of us who weren't sherpas, I was told that I could be let in the back if I walked around the building, up the mail ramp, rang the bell, waited for an escort, walked through the building, found my way to the service area, and then waited for an escort to bring me back to the mail ramp. They claim that a local landmark law trumps ADA guidelines and that they're not obligated to provide better access than that.

Therefore, the post office is evil and must be avoided. Usually I do a pretty good job of that. I use Click N Ship on most of my packages and order stamps and supplies online.

They could do better. :(

Hoping for a better week for you. I've almost written you about 10 times this weekend.

[Ron Sullivan]

This rant is so good I'm gonna go sent people here.

Sing it!

[Jeanne]

Sara--love this rant. No one rants as well as you do ... well, maybe with the exception of Amorette, who is right up there in Champion Class as well.

Having said that, I have to add my own little "cell phone while waiting in line story."

Mine happened at the pharmacy, also a place where we hate to wait.

There is a sign on the counter that says something like, "We're happy to help you when you're off your phone."

First point--amazing that people would continue to chat while filling prescriptions! I'm busy double-checking the meds in the bottles to make sure no one made a mistake that might kill me.

So when I got to the line, this little drama had already begun, and it was a woman, and I have no idea if she was a doctor, but let's say she acted like one. A very young one.

When I got there, she was in full flow, yelling at the person behind the pharmacy counter, who had offered to help someone else BECAUSE SHE WAS ON HER PHONE.

The counterperson stayed remarkably cool, kept apologizing but saying that it was pharmacy policy not to serve people who were on the phone, and this woman kept ranting.

Then with her phone still connected, she took it away from her ear and announced loudly, "See, I'm off the phone."

The pharmacy person, to her credit, insisted that the customer actually disconnect the phone and close it up before she helped her. And the woman KEPT RANTING. And as she walked away, she made some comment to all the rest of us, who she had delayed by, oh, maybe five minutes, that we should never shop THERE on a Saturday.

This little drama also took place between T-Day and Xmas. And I'm sure there's a lesson there too. I love the folks who get all snarly because they're trying to celebrate Christmas ...