First, let me say that whoever designed Lewis Gale Medical Center is…I mean it’s kind of like they started with one reasonably designed building. And then just started throwing extra rooms all over the place. Like the Weasleys. Until they just ended up with this random collection of poorly assembled buildings that have no logical sequencing.

I spent an unreasonable part of my day trapped inside of the hodge podge.

There were moments when I thought I may have to just find an empty on call room, get some sleep, and try again tomorrow.

As I wandered up to the “Information Desk.” Which I found absolutely by accident. To ask where in tarnation Orthopedics exists, the chirpy little woman behind the desk jumped up, eager to show me her “Directory” board.

“This is so neat and no one ever uses it.”

And then she started running her finger down the alphabetized list of departments. I found Orthopedics a solid 30 seconds before her finger made it down that far. Because I do understand the alphabet. And how directories work.

“There. B Main.”

…the fuck does that mean?

“You have to take the B elevator to Main.”

…street? Main Street??

“Just walk down this way and make a rectangle until you see B elevator. Then push the button for Main.”

…ok…

Freakin geometry creeping into my everyday life just like my teacher said it would. Dammit.

But I’m smart. So obviously I found what I was looking for. Even with LG’s bullshit hodge podge non-directional directory board.

Filled out a bunch of paper. Front desk then scanned it all into the computer. Which. I could have typed it all in myself faster than the time it took me to kill all the trees. But whatever.

Then went back for my x-ray.

Of my knee.

And only my knee.

Even though I’ve been significantly more whiny about my arm than my knee. And requested a referral for both.

And I may have gotten a little pissy. Because nonstop pain. And Fall Risk and Rogue may have had to talk me down. So I didn’t act all shitty to the poor nurse and x-ray tech and front desk chick whose fault this was not.

And so some debate started. Between the x-Ray tech. And the front desk tech. And the nurse tech. Which is how I ended up wandering around Lewis Gale hospital in paper shorts.

It’s the single matching sock that really sold it.

But nurse and x-ray tech eventually won the battle. And got me my arm x-ray.

Which is good because doc diagnosed my knee as perfect.

“I mean, if you fell on it and then proceeded to run 20 miles on it, you’re probably as fine as you’re gonna be.” (Dumbass is implied.)

She did throw in the suggestion that there might be a little arthritis in there. To remind me that I’m old. Just like those freakin AARP invitation emails I keep getting.

But basically I need to stop whining about the pain. Because pain is just part of life. Stop being a little bitch about it.

Then she moved on to my arm. And started squeezing it. Like, really hard. Like bully hard. Hard enough that not only did I have to fight the reflex to punch her in the throat. But also I’m pretty sure that shit would’ve hurt even if my arm weren’t wonky. (Which is the actual medical term she used.)

And she kept squeezing it. Really hard. In the exact same place.

“This hurts?”

Yes. This still hurts.

And I can only fight throat punch reflex so many times.

And then she stopped squeezing and pulled up my x-ray. To show me the wonky that she’d been squeezing.

“It’s concerning.”

Well, yeah…that’s what I’ve been whining about for the last two months. Except for those two weeks I was on prednisone. (We both took a moment to sigh and reflect on the beauty that is prednisone…)

But apparently a radiologist has to look at the x-ray to verify the wonky diagnosis.

And also may as well throw in an MRI to really make sure it’s actually the wonk.

Once I was released back into the hodge podge of a maze that is Lewis Gale Medical Center, the anxiety of being lost forever kicked in. And with every corner I turned without a hint of an exit, I clung to my paper shorts a little tighter. Because I absolutely carried them out with me.

And I was messaging Fall Risk. With the faint hope that she’d guide me out of the shit hole and back to society.

“You live there now.”

Hey, thanks.

But finally. After 36 turns and 15 rectangles. Finally.

Freedom.

So I got all my steps in today.

And I’m really excited about meeting my deductible this year. And probably just being told that the wonk is incurable.

But at least I’ve got these cool paper shorts now.