The other day I was complaining that my Grandson was disrespectful by getting damaged. He can’t do chores. I ended up having to do them because I’m not allowed to hire a live-in cheerleading mower assistant.
We took the boy to an orthopedic surgeon, which for the record does not work for free. They charge more than a plumber on a national holiday. They charge more than a lawyer with a condo in Aspen. We drove “up north” to the ortho-dude office in “Mount Carmel” even though I’ve never seen a mountain of any kind in this state. Maybe there used to be a mountain and it was sold to pay a surgeon.
We took the grand-malingerer to the clinic and filled out 57 pages of forms. We eventually got in an exam room. When the surgeon came in the room the female spousal entity lit up like a menorah on the last day of Hanukah. She was as happy as a squirrel in a bird feeder. She was smiling like Hillary when Bernie dropped out. The wife thought the doc was pretty but I don’t know why she’d think that. What’s so great about a rich man with muscles and a head full of hair? While she was all googly-eying the doc I actually listened to him. He determined the kid needed surgery. I’d said the same thing that morning, but nobody stared longingly at me. We scheduled for Friday because Doctor Hunk could get him in and fix him first, because, hey, he has great hair.
Friday came along and we checked in to the surgery center and coffeeteria. I think the hospital is Latin for “The Dreadful Center for Hopelessly Long Waiting Times”. It was 0700 hours because we were first. Boy got all prepped, gowned, pasteurized, and homogenized. He had to be ready because we were first.
Hospitals follow the book of Matthew when Jesus said “The first shall be last and the last shall be first.” A man went in because he was an emergency or was paying cash. We got bumped by a lady for mowing her foot off or something equally trivial. I’m pretty sure another man went in because he and the doc had a tee time. A local politician’s 2nd cousin’s wives plumbers’ neighbor got to go in and get something done to something. I made many trips to the complimentary coffee bar. I noticed that in the hall a couple of women were trying to break their own bones so they could visit Doctor Perfect Hair with the muscles.
About 1400 hours we were up. The kid went in for his one hour surgery that only took 2 ½ hours. By the time he came out of the OR he was malnourished, dehydrated, and as bored as a Senator without a pay-off.
We finally got released and headed home. I’d had enough coffee that I could have flown, but I trudged along on Highway 1. With the many miles to drive and my overly-caffeinated brain I thought up some alternatives to the way it went at the hospital.
Driving so far and waiting all day to get repaired is stupid. Why couldn’t we just stay at home and get a call when they’re ready for us? They could give us one of those pagers like at Olive Garden and we could drive on up when it goes off. Better yet, how about a RV with a surgical suite? They could plan a route just like FedEx and pull up, roll you in one door and out the other. They could partner with Dominos and deliver pizza at the same time. It would work.
Maybe set up operating rooms at the golf course. Doctors seem to end up there anyway. “Let’s see, a broken femur? You go to hole 3. Clavicles are on the first tee. Uninsured? You’re in the sand trap. Watch out, Osteopath playing through.” The malpractice lawyers can hang out in the clubhouse
.
They could even schedule you like the cable company. “The surgeon will be at your location Monday between 8:00 AM and 12:00 PM to repair your hip and fix your internet. Please be washed up, gowned, and off of the Wifi”.
If all of that won’t work, maybe just improve the conditions at the hospital. Everyone is either bored or nervous, so give families something to do. Put exercise bikes connected to generators in the waiting rooms. People will get healthier and pass the time while generating 110 volts AC. You can even take the electricity generated off of the bill. “Mr. Smith, you generated 7 megawatts so we’ll be taking $42 off of your bill. Mrs. Jones, you had 14 family members pedaling like crazy. The surgery bill is paid and we owe you $873. Please come again.
Any of these can work better than the current system. Maybe he who is first can at least move up to the middle. Also, Dr. Dreamy needs to go somewhere, anywhere, else.
Fini.
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