This was to be the day I might not get answers to life's perplexing questions, but before it was over, may know what is wrong with my leg. If I'd known how much I would learn before the sun set today, I would have started much earlier. The doctor's appointment and an MRI were scheduled close together, but I thought I could make a stop along the way, and be on time for both.

In case I can still work after this leg is healed, my nursing licenses needed renewing so I swung by the post office to have the renewal postmarked, and was on my way. Because I so seldom get sick, I wasn't familiar with the doctors' new offices. All I knew was which building it was suppose to be in.

Long ago one could drive to that area, any time of the day, and not have trouble finding parking. Today you can hardly find the front entrance, or the nearby hospital. They are mushroomed in with other medical buildings with many floors. Huge cranes slowly dig at the sides of them, as they strain to build even more. I was worried about finding the building, and afraid I'd be late. Visions of falling off a turnip truck formed in my brain. I wasn't sure where to turn, or to park. I did know to try to get in close, since it's so hard to walk right now.

The nice sounding voice when I'd called for directions emphasized their having Valet service. Said they would deal with my car. I turned to the building with the correct numbers on it, and took a long, strong breath. But my hopes faded. The young man in the valet uniform said in almost a foreign language, for me to park the car. I tried hurrying, but another car whizzed by before I could get in. I handed this stranger my car keys, and wondered if I'd see them again, and found the right entrance to the building by myself.

In the movie, "E T," while checking out strange places on a strange planet, that curious creature caused all kinds of problems, and today I thought I knew how he felt. It would take more than a handful of M and M's or Reeses' Pieces, to get me where I needed to be. Not at all sure I was headed right, I scanned the long narrow hall, and gritted my teeth, perhaps a little like Tiger Woods did when he had to win that game last week.

When your knee hinges cannot work right, it amplifies the difficulty of most everything you do. I was still upset how rude and unhelpful the Valet guy was. and people in the hall looked worse off than me. I trudged on forward without a travel tracking device, or a map I couldn't refold, much less read, and there it was, in big bold lettering, inviting me to come in for Geriatric Medical Care. It stopped short of having blinking lights around the sign, like in carnivals. but I was still tempted to throw a blanket or something over it. I was not ready for the world to see me entering the realm of geriatric care.

I told myself I was somewhat irritable only because of the pain, and that might have been part of it, but only a part. The honesty in my bones, including the sore leg ones, knew I did not like being grouped with a room full of elderly, most of them heavily breathing, even though carrying their oxygen tanks. I take care of patients healthier than that. Can you see how quickly I dismissed my irritable behavior, but plowed right into it in others'.

I checked in with the desk lady, then found a seat, and pulled out a book I'd brought to read. Number one mistake was choosing to sit in an open area that was soon a little crowded, and I'd have to move my knee to let others get by. Number two error was the heavy reading material. What made me think I could concentrate in that setting, on something as deep as a philsophical "If You Want To Write", (a book about art independence and spirit) by Brenda Ueland. I put the book away, and moved to a different seat.

More patients arrived. Some need more help settling in than others. Two baby boomer age men wheel in a tiny creature who must be their mom. She without a doubt earns the prize for most lively geriatric patient of the day. The sons wear shorts and summer tops, and flipflops, and one's color turns almost red, when his mom points to his hairy legs and loudly says, "Those legs should be on a girl". I venture a closer peak at them, and as usually is on target, Mom is right. Instead of looking muscular, his legs could compete with world war II, pinup queen, Betty Grable's.

If you don't stare too long, people watching can become fun. I notice that the old folks coming here seem dressed much nicer than my nursing home patients, and their skin and hair looks better cared for. I suppose it's because these are still able to do more of their own care. Some are wearing Skechers or New Balance shoes that look like they came right out of a new box.

Some sit quietly, others talk too much, and one or two are doing the thing that drives me crazy, shaking a foot or a leg, or clicking a writing pen off and on, til you almost consider murder.

I was still alright with time for both appointments, but when an hour had passed, and several of these noisy creatures guided off to examining rooms, and I was one of those still waiting, I almost laughed out loud at myself. How could I forget about waiting room schedules? I made a silent reminder to next time remember that.

A young woman in scrubs who looked somewhat weary called my name, and waited a moment, then seemed in a hurry, and I realized she didn't know I couldn't keep up her pace. I tried to explain, but her work routine seemed more important than listening to what I said. She led me to an examining room, and motioned to a chair, as if she couldn't hurry away until I was seated. With a sudden mental start, I realized I've done that many times myself with patients, when they moved slowly.

A tall and gracious doctor entered the room, and immediately apologized for being late. Some emergency at the hospital took him away, he explained, and I am thinking how glad I am that he knows his priorities, and thankful that I wasn't the emergency. I can tell I will really like this man. Not only was he thorough in history gathering, and examining me, but he covered things like mammograms, eye exams, and other important tests, But most of all, he took the time to listen.


I make a mental note to especially remember that, next time I'm with a patient.
Except for this knee I didn't have other problems. The doctor took me to their lab to get baseline test levels, and I settled a small co-pay fee, and headed down that long hall again to get to the MRI place.

The lady who did the it explained the orthopedic doctor ordered several parts of it. All I had to do was not have any metal on me, and lie very still. The morning had taken a lot out of me. I mean, it can be hard work watching people. So I relaxed as much as the leg allowed, and took a catnap while the test was being done.

Then the nice MRI lady helped me back outside where I could get my car. I am still not comfortable with having to use a wheelchair, but for now, accept that I need it.

I am sitting outside silently telling Jesus how much I appreciate Him, and this marvelous medical center, and all the people who helped me here. Knowing I'll soon find out what's wrong with this leg gives me an even bigger high. I am happy!

A woman who looks less than half my age, who walks and talks and moves around, sits down beside me. She seems a little restless. and immediately starts talking, saying: "Life's a B-----, and then you die from some disease" she says more loudly. and leans back, but no bolt of doom flies down out of the sky. Some other time I might have thought I could convince her otherwise, but today whatever kind of pearls I have, I'm not throwing at her feet) I smile her way a little, and wish her well, and pick up my purse and limp toward the car.