It is 11:38 a.m., and I am at the UMC Urgent Care at Peccole Ranch. I am one of about 30 sufferers awaiting treatment and, in many instances, prescription medication. As a rule, I don't practice self-diagnosis, but I feel I am suffering from the hippy-hippy shakes, more commonly known as Chan Romero's Disease.
I checked in a bit ago, at 11:11 a.m., and in silent sickness, I wait. I am pretty far away from my home, about 20 miles, and it would be a lot more convenient to have dropped into a doc-in-the-box closer to where I live. But I want to hit the Las Vegas Art Museum just up the road a spot on West Sahara Avenue, to check in on the place on the day after it was announced that it would close, at least temporarily, on Feb. 28.
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The LVAM business hours end at 5 p.m. today. I hope I make it. It's even money that I will. Or won't.
Observation: There is a time and place for flair, and you might feel that a visit to a health care facility is neither. Wrong. The woman who recorded my insurance information is wearing, by my count, 40 pieces of flair. Most of it is in the form of turquoise jewelry. She looks like she just crawled out of the rubble of a Navajo Nation gift shop, but the stuff is quite beautiful.
I'm going to keep writing here, to see what happens. I've done the BlackBerry writing bit before. I've used the little demon everywhere recently from the Obama acceptance speech in Denver to the Miss America Pageant to the Motley Crue show at The Joint. But this experience might take a bigger slice of my life than any of those singularly memorable events.
The guy sitting next to me in the detention -- I mean, waiting -- area is just yammering on his Blue Tooth about why he is visiting Urgent Care. Don't scratch it is my advice.
A half dozen of us are tapping away on our handhelds. How did we survive these long waits before the advent of PDAs? Oh! We read! Some people are doing that, too, God love 'em. I am leaving my LV Weekly behind at Urgent Care so some of my fellow sickos might learn something about architecture.
The most recent sufferer to join our tribe has taken a seat facing me and is asleep. I hope his name isn't Josh, because they are calling for Josh and no Josh is approaching the counter. They should just go the deli route and issue numbers. This experience is like a trip to the DMV in so many ways -- maybe UMC can partner with the DMV somehow and treat ill people who also forgot to renew their vehicle registrations online. New residents could wait for their 'scripts to run out before getting their new Nevada IDs.
I am all ABOUT the ideas.
Ah! My turn for treatment!
I was just interviewed by a medical assistant, a lovely woman wearing a lime-green smock covered with little skunks. She asked some tough questions. I can't be sure if I am or am not allergic to iodine. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most pain I have ever experienced, how much pain am I in? No idea. I am still waiting to experience the level-10 pain. I've not had that. Emotionally, I am about an 8, because this visit is upsetting me. Physically, I'm at 4 or 5, and that's coming from a documented wuss.
It's 12:30 p.m., I am in a treatment room awaiting Dr. Feelgood. The reading matter in here is the February issue of Web MD. Who’s on the cover? Julia Louise-Dreyfus. She’s a “stand-up mom,” according to the headline. She's been married to Brad Hall for 21 years. Wow.
The bronchial tree is really fascinating. There’s a little model of it next to the sink. Millions of air passages. If you smoke, you can turn all of them the shade of charcoal briquettes.
Ah! 12:40 p.m., and here comes the doc.
He comes and goes. I trust anyone who still wears a Livestrong bracelet, be it Dr. Feelgood or Lance Armstrong himself.
They always draw blood at Urgent Care, which reminds me that I am overdue to donate. Everyone able to donate blood should do so. It is the easiest important form of volunteer service you can provide. And you should vote, too. And recycle.
It’s 1:11 p.m., and we have reached the two-hour mark ...
Now 1:20 p.m., I must plug my colleague and pal T.R. Witcher’s architects roundtable story in this week’s LV Weekly. Really interesting, and it is quelling what would be acute frustration at being left alone in this room for what is approaching 30 minutes ... There is an interesting give-and-take about transportation funding in this story that reminds me of something I have long noticed about the double-decker buses in Vegas. They seem to break down, a lot. I am always seeing disabled double-deckers parked with their hazards flashing.
At 1:35 p.m., he returns! We chat. He asks me to sit tight for “a bit.” OK.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
A new person has come and gone. I’m about out of here. The staff is conducting some sort of surname-pronouncing contest at my expense.
At 2:15 p.m., I am out. Seems it’s a two-pronged condition, the rockin’ pneumonia complicated by the boogie-woogie blues, but it wasn’t an entirely painful experience. At least I got some work done.
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