*It's weird calling him that but I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate being on my blog as a 13 year old boy.
I wasn't sure if you're allowed to bring food into the sub-waiting rooms and thought it would be nice to ask at the check-in desk. I was the only person there, but they made me take a number. Balancing a tray of coffee and juice, plus two little bags of food in one arm, I reached out and pulled number 70. The wall said 69. (heh heh get it?)
I stood there awkwardly, brandishing my 70 ticket for at least five minutes, practicing what I was going to say to them in my head over and over, shifting my weight back and forth between sore feet. There were two people sitting behind the desk, both typing away on computers and refusing to look my way.
Finally the grumpier and greyer of the two frowned up at me and said sharply "Well, can I help you?"
"Uh yeah, I just got a text from two hungry guys in the x-ray waiting room and I was wondering if-"
"You're a tech?" She interrupted.
"No I got a tex-"
"I don't understand what you want, are they techs?"
"No. I. Got. A. Text. My boyfriend and his kid are in a waiting room and I want to bring them food."
"Where are they?"
"He's getting an x-ray."
She stared at me, so confused.
"I just wanted to ask if I could bring food into that waiting room."
She kept staring.
She looked at me like I was the biggest idiot and said "Yeah, we don't care."
So off I went, found them parked in a long line of injured and ill people in wheely beds where we awkwardly stood around balancing bagels and coffees in our hands.
He had hurt his hip, the doctor couldn't figure it out so he went for an x-ray. We had to wait about an hour for somebody to come get the bed and wheel it back to emergency. Ryan took our garbage down the hallway and on his walk back to us a frail looking woman in a bed told him he looked like Jamie from Mythbusters.
"I don't know who that is but I'll take it as a compliment," he said.
"Oh it is. He's smart and good looking."
Ryan came back and I told him NO he absolutely does NOT look like Jamie from Mythbusters and I showed him a picture. Many LOLs were had (quietly enough that the woman couldn't hear, of course). I also pretended I was gonna go kick her ass for messing with my man too. Ah, good times.
People kept being wheeled up to the same hallway and each one said
"Now, don't forget me here."
I laughed as I realized that was the transport people's cliche thing. Like the cashier's "It must be free." when an item doesn't scan.
But what's not funny is, as we found out later from the transport guy, one of those ladies had literally been lost in a back hallway for two hours. Nobody knew where they had left her.
Oops. Ok she actually had reason to worry about them forgetting her.
What followed was such a long and dragged out SIX more hours in a room we became nearly delerious with silliness. At one point Ryan left to get us a snack from a nearby grocery store, and although I was loath to eat in such a place I was also so hungry my stomach ended up winning out. I was full by the third giant potato wedge anyway. What harm could three potato wedges do in an emergency room?
I also stopped eating them because we had to move out of the room we were in and in transit somehow the bag containing the food was placed on the floor. Nope. Not eating that shit no mo'.
The reason for the long wait was because the doctors needed a specialist's opinion on the x-ray but he was at another hospital in surgery. So it wasn't even like they could say "he will be six hours". It was all "any minute now, maybe." which makes the day incredibly long.
Two out of three of our phones' batteries died. I let the kid play my Sims game on my phone. We drew. We sat there. We looked up my ex boyfriends on Facebook.
One doctor went home for the day and we were handed to another. Nurses popped in telling us they were going for a dinner break but would be back afterwards to check on us.
Finally the diagnosis came in. His IT band was hurt. Illeotibial band, for long. Something about it being like a tight rubber band and "snapping" out of place and then back in. *shudder*
He crutched on out of there and we went home with the old "rest and ibuprofin" prescription. Second diagnosis happens today.
Knock on wood, and I do feel superstitious saying this, but I haven't ever hurt myself badly enough to need crutches and he literally already had a pair at home from last year's ACL incident. I guess that's the difference between an athlete and a nerd. I'll take nerd, thank you. The worst I get is eye strain.