Must Be An Escaped Mental Patient

Well, I had to go to the hospital today to have a Holter monitor attached. I wonder if it were named after a guy named Holter? If it was, I am guessing that would be his last name although there are some pretty crazy eastern European names. The first time that I wore one of these things I was pretty sure it was called a Holster monitor. It is kind of like a gun belt, except I imagine that they would frown on you practicing your quick draws with it.

I am to wear this for the next 24 hours being sure to just go about my business as usual, except that I am not to bathe.  Business as usual shouldn't be  a problem for me because I take it pretty easy for the most part and with an almost excuse not to do anything, I foresee the couch and I spending some quality time.

The guy that hooked up the wires told me to see him as I was leaving so that he could give me the directions on how to get back to the elevators, I told him that I was good. Oh, I was good alright, good and lost. I don’t get it, I walked down one hallway and made a right turn and then a left turn when I came in. I think? Maybe it was a left turn and then a right. I remember seeing a garden growing on the roof of one of the hospital buildings coming in, but so far no rooftop garden on the way out. Hmmmmm. I wandered around the halls for a while, but I knew that I was hoplessly lost. Why would they design the place to be this confusing? It’s kind of looks like what a doctors writing would look like if it were a building. No one can make heads nor tails of it. To make matters worse, I was in street clothes so I didn’t really blend in with the hospital staff and their “scrubs”. My ass wasn’t hanging out the back of a gown so everyone knew I wasn’t a patient. Finally after what seemed like hours, a Lady with a stethoscope around her neck stopped and asked if I were lost. I said “ahhhh” and then she said “Follow me.”

We walked along a hall and she pointed vaguely up there and said something about elevators. I mumbled thanks and watched her stride purposely back the way she had come. Geez, I hope I didn’t cause someone’s heart operation to be postponed. Well, if there is a problem, at least this is the best place for it. Now, where are those elevators? I was sure she pointed in this direction. Maybe this is like those old English homes with a secret passage. I just have to touch the corner of this picture frame and the door will open. Nope! Shit! How the hell can I be lost again? Luckily two old ladies smelling of smoke happened by just then. I figured that they must have just been outside and asked them where the elevators were. More vague pointing, but this time there were two so I could triangulate the proper direction. I never did find the public elevators, but I figure “Authorized Personel Only” was more of a guideline than a rule.

 Once in the lobby, all I had to do to get out was dodge around the people in wheel chairs and crutches, pass the old guy with a pack of cigarettes in one hand, an IV in the other and his ass hanging out of his gown. Nice ass for an old guy! Finally, fresh air! I’m sure that finding my way back tomorrow will be much easier.

The hospital parking is really expensive, so I generally park on the street about a five minute walk away. Don’t get me wrong, if Louise was really sick or bleeding, I would probably park on the hospital grounds...probably.  I was waiting to cross the road and this guy starts to walk across the street against the light. It isn’t as if there wasn’t traffic, he just hoped for the best I guess. I looked at the fellow standing beside me and he looked at me, and then we both looked at the guy crossing the road. I shrugged my shoulders and said “Must be an escaped mental patient.” We both laughed while we waited for the light to change.

Weird day, and it is only 9:00 AM.