A Totally Unexpectedly Nice Day

You probably won't be asking why - why is this post in The Gospel instead of Cat Juggler?! Primarily, it's because I haven't posted a Gospel since 2012.

Yesterday, September 9th, 2015, was a day I had been anticipating with a slight edge of dread. Carmen, after three tries leaving messages that evoked no calls back, finally made an appointment for me with a primary care physician. Dr. John Guenst was recommended by another geezer in the Greater Nashville Unitarian Universalist Congregation. The doctor's office is in the Saint Thomas Medical Center - no wonder I had doubts - a little over six miles away, directly on Highway 70 South, same as us here in Bellevue. My favorite thing about it is that it is directly on the number 5 bus route, same as us here in Bellevue. Unfortunately, Carmen had an appointment with some folks from the other UU church in town, which took her directly past St. Tom. I wasn't going to be able to ride the bus in. BUT! I could ride the bus home!

After a nice long walk with Grace at Edwin Warner Park, we came home and showered up. I put on some semi-spiffy duds, loaded my laptop case with necessary items (not including my laptop,) and we set out. It's a pretty simple excursion going in toward the city on 70 South, and we were there in about twenty minutes. She dropped me at the main entrance and boogied on to her meeting. I went inside, found a directory of doctors, followed the direction arrows to the west tower, took the elevator to the 4th floor, and was there. Only an hour early! The receptionist signed me in. The medical assistant handed me the mandatory clipboard full of papers to fill out, and thanked me for being early. She said I could see the doctor twenty minutes ahead of my scheduled appointment. Then she went to lunch. So far so good.

I filled out my paperwork, and checked my Kindle Fire for wi-fi. Finding nothing I could tap into, I dozed off. As advertised, twenty minutes before 12:30 she called me in from the waiting room. We did the usual height/ weight/ blood pressure/ pulse/ respiration thing, and the entering of basic medical history into the computer system. What I discovered about her was that she has very close to zero sense of humor. Not good. But she went away soon and left me to wait for the doctor. And wait. And wait. That twenty minute edge evaporated, and then some. Finally, however, he came in.

I don't like doctors. Anybody who knows me knows that. I don't trust them. I see them as yet another leach on the bloodstream of humanity, just a shade smarmier than lawyers. Many many doctors have confirmed this belief. Therefore, I was not prepared for what happened next. Dr. Guenst came in the room, greeted me cordially, then laughed at my smart-ass remark. He spent an hour with me, going over my medical history, laughing at my silly commentary, asking for the stories behind the scars. We actually had a good old time together, and were reluctant to break it up so he could see other patients. This never happens.

He recommended a tetanus/pertussis/diphtheria shot and a shingles vaccine, which the assistant administered with her usual lack of good humor. Then she sent me to Registration, where nobody had told me I was supposed to go first, before coming to the office. When I finished there, she could send me to the blood drawing lab on the same floor, where eight vials of blood were removed from my arm. Then I was sent back to the receptionist, who signed me up for my online portal, and I was done, only three and a half hours after arriving. I took the elevator back down to the entrance, found my way out to the highway, and sat down on the bench to wait for the bus.

The Bus Stop sign at that locality actually had the #5 schedule printed on it. The next bus was the 3:30, in only a half hour. Long before that, however, it started to rain. Not a lot, not hard. Just a little sprinkling, enough to be annoying, but not enough to soak me. The 3:13 #3 bus stopped in front of me, the doors opened, and the driver asked if I wanted to come aboard. I wasn't standing up, or looking expectantly, or waving, or any other standard indicators of wanting to board his bus. "No thanks," was all I said. Time ticked on, while the crick in my neck from four years of looking for MBTA buses began to throb. 3:30 came and went, but I was not alarmed. Bus schedules are impossible to keep. Then at 3:32, a young (30ish?) woman came around the corner and approached the bench. "What time does your bus come?" she asked. I looked at my watch and smiled wryly. "3:30," I replied, "but I don't think it'll be on time." "Where do you live?" she asked. This threw me, but I recovered. "Bellevue." "Can I give you a ride?" I hesitated. I really like taking buses. "It's about to start raining really hard," she explained. "If it will make you happy," I said. She smiled. "I'll get my car, come around and pick you up here." She went back around the corner toward the parking lot. I was unsure of what to do. I wrestled with it a minute, then decided that if the bus came before she did, I would take it. It did not.

The light turned red at the precise instant that the SUV driven by Sara(h?) pulled up in front of me. I climbed in, reached WAAAAY out to close the door, buckled myself in, and we were off. "I was driving by and saw you sitting there in the rain. I just had to stop." I thanked her, and we introduced ourselves. I'm pretty sure she is primarily an unbridled extrovert who hates driving alone, because we engaged in spirited conversation all the way. We talked about Bellevue, Mexican restaurants, Edwin Warner Park, and our dogs, all the way to the CVS, where my new prescriptions would be waiting for me. I thanked her again, and went inside. It was pouring rain, and had been for most of the journey.

Three prescriptions and my lunch - a jar of honey roasted peanuts - in hand, I went back out. The rain had stopped, and I was dry walking all the way home.