April 05, 2008
Dumbass are me
Originally published May 16, 2003
I arrived at the urologist's office right on time today. I thought that the parking lot looked kinda empty for his thriving practice. I went inside. Nobody was in the waiting room and the sign-in sheet was all blacked out.
The receptionist asked, "Can I help you"
"Yes, ma'am," I replied. "I have a 10:45 appointment with Dr. XXX today."
"We don't see patients here on Fridays anymore. Dr. XXX is at the Effingham County Clinic."
That's when it hit me right in the face, like a bunch of hog intestines flung by a hazing teenaged girl at a flag-football game.
When I made the appointment, the receptionist pulled up my records and asked me, "Is that Savannah, or Effingham?"
I thought she wanted to know where I live now. (I stayed at my mama's house when I had my surgery, since I was a homeless person at the time, and I thought that they were asking about my current address.) "Effingham," I responded, not knowing that Dr. XXX now operates a practice RIGHT HERE where I live.
They booked me there, and I went to the wrong place at the right time.
Oh well, it's only another week. And I know where to go this time.
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