It’s 7 AM Monday morning and I’ve been playing phone tag with a bunch of doctors office
phone numbers. Nobody is in at 7 AM. Most of them provide an emergency contact phone
number but recommend that you wait for normal business hours. What I love is when they
don’t tell you what those hours are. Am I supposed to guess what they are? Should I
know them by osmosis? On Friday I made a very unspirited attempt to contact my Houston
doctor but instead spoke to the PA who said I probably didn’t need a shot and that I
should just ”stay the course until the poison ivy eruptions subsided.” Now that I may
have an infection I think I’m going to get a little better treatment. If all else fails it’s
emergency room city, baby. I hate the ER. I used to work in one and you can always bet
that the triage nurse will rival the personality of The Wicked Witch of the West.
For the uninitiated, the triage nurse is who decides how critical you are and how long you
have to wait until you are allowed out of the waiting room and into one of the non-trauma
rooms. Bleah. That poison ivy plant is going to die when I get back to Houston on Friday.
Weed-B-Gone, come to me.