POST-OPS TWELVE
Today was another trip to Scranton, on that blood-thinner issue. I finally hit the blood-balance scale correctly, and they say they found my proper dosage, which is good. Now I have another trip, on Tuesday, as follow-up and to again check the levels. As much as it's all annoying, there's not much I can do about it since my part of this whole bargain (Bargain? What's a life worth?) is now to follow their directives. So, I do. One current disappointment is that, from the beginning it was said that 28 or 30 days was all that was needed for me to be on this Coumadin stuff. Now today they said three months. Valves get clots, and that's a danger. I realized today that, if I screw this up, I could be writing 'Post Op Flops' - which wouldn't be so cool.
Going in to Scranton today, it was to a new location - the phlebotomist blood-lady keeps her own office at the complete other end of the Mulberry Street area, about oh 4 miles off. It's a section called Mount Pleasant Ave., at the Scranton High School turn and area. A modern building, glass and metal. It was OK, once I got to it, but I really dislike anything new - chrome posts and interior columns, little glass windows behind each of which sit the registrar people. It's always disconcerting and crummy to have to start at yet another window - same questions and all, even though they already have all your info up on screen from the Geisinger portal. I remembered today that I used to know a guy who'd say - about situations like this - 'Screw 'em. Just walk in there like you own the place. Nobody will give you any crap.' It's not that easy, especially in that most all of these girls are like 20 at best, and speak in the sing-song goofy little voices, running all their words together and swallowing the rest. Makes me want to say, 'Listen, Missy, say all that again at half speed, and, goddamn it, enunciate your words like a Human so I can figure out what it your you're singing about. OK?' Between that, and the proximity to the nearby high school - yet another modern, swooped out designer palace for adolescents in revolt - surrounded as it is by Arby's, Sheetz' ( PA gas-station/convenience store palace) it's no wonder there's enough sugarized energy everywhere to go around : the usual hamburger joints and milkshake shakedowns also mean it's no wonder kids aren't shaking like speed freaks, let along talking run-on and fast.
This end of town, too - unlike the nicer 'downtown' back by the hospital area that I was used to - is all car-oriented. You can't get anywhere by just walking. Each hill and parking lot are separate, and the high school to is isolated, prison-like, on its own knoll. Not sure what anyone was thinking, but maybe the kids all drive, or buses do the rest. I guess it's like that in many places, everywhere, but if you think abut it it eventually must leave a mark in the brain - isolating a body from the brick and mortar infrastructure around them. Which is mostly how kids live now anyway, so, whatever. I won't say 'I give up,' but I do. Just can no longer be bothered by whippersnappers in big sneakers.
Sometimes I think the whole world's now one big mess, but how do you successfully say that to a doctor whose preferred task is saving people and keeping them in that world? That's a real quandary.
The phlebotomy doctor-lady turned out to be nice. Very relaxed feel to the situation, and the entire thing, the pin-prick and the blood-letting, and the quick reading for results of the blood only took like two minutes. The rest was chatter and small talk about the good results and finally having gotten to where they were wanted to be. I felt satisfied, even though I hated having, again, to come back Tuesday.
One last thing, on the way out we drove past this really cool place which is also right there; we'd been there before, and I'd taken numerous photos - and hope to do it again on Tuesday. It's a NYC salvage operation shop called 'Olde Good Things.' They have maybe three locations in NYC, and here, in Scranton, is there gigantic east-coast collecting warehouse, where they store, catalogue, refurbish as needed, and post online, their new items. The idea of the place is that they salvage all those NYC places that get torn down - old brownstones, mansions, fancy townhomes, etc. They purchase from the estate, and then re-sell. The guy told me a lot of wealthy people, rick stars, and film and TV people are always lurking around the NYC stores, for their fancy new Manhattan digs. They buy everything from lamps to bars to mirrors and safes. Then he started dropping names likes I'd be impressed, but I just got bored and cut it short. Madonna, Sting. Michael Buble. Rod Stewart. Blad blah. Anyway, this here, in Scranton, is there big warehouse.
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