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radfrac_archive_fullAnything you still can't articulate is therefore your own problem.
At last I can post. Coming to you live from the Left Luggage Office of Pakington Street Station, first stop on the Victoria Underground.
I think I managed to be useful for the few days I was staying with my mum. I helped her through a bit of slapstick comedy called
Going to the Doctor's Office
She needed a travel form to go across to Vancouver to see the specialist. One of those pink forms they give you to reimburse your ferry fare. So she called in and gave them all her information, and then we drove down to get it.
My job was to run in and pick up the form, since her mobility is so limited. The running in part was easy. The getting, not so much.
She said "Tell them you're here to pick up a form for Mrs. A. Mother, and that she called it in. I told them you'd be picking it up."
I jogged up to the counter. "I'm here to pick up a travel form for Mrs. A. Mother." I said. "She phoned it in."
"Is it filled in?" asked the nurse.
Well. Stumped in one. Was it filled in? I didn't know. I'd never seen it. I'd only even heard of its existence second hand.
"She phoned it in." I tried, hoping that would lead her towards some conclusion based on the information she had and I lacked.
"But is it filled out?" She blocked me expertly.
I searched my mind. "I don't know." I said. I tried to work up a theory. Maybe she meant had it already been used and was it just with the doctor for some final approval. "I guess... it's not." I said.
"That's what I wanted to know." She started filling one out. "Name of referring doctor?"
"Dr. First." I said confidently.
"Yes, but he's away. Who's the referring physician?"
So I ran back out to the car.
"I told them all that over the phone." said my mother.
"Dr. Second." I reported to the nurse.
"And the referral is to?"
"...Dr. First?" I said desperately. She was having none of that. I ran back to the car again and my increasingly bemused mother.
"Dr. Third." I reported, or would have if the nurse hadn't gone off to talk to a patient. I waited. Patiently. She returned.
"Dr. Third." I finally communicated.
"What's his physician number?"
I stared at her.
Then, and only then, a second nurse, who had been hovering in the background with a half-smile all this time, walked over and flicked a bit of pink paper taped up just out of my sight. "Here's your form, taped to the counter." she said.
Other Useful Things
We also went to the bank machine, so she could try out doing that by herself and see if it was possible. It was, though I must have seemed a right asshole watching the poor woman in the arm braces struggle with the door. Someone else swooped in and held it for her on the way out. Sigh.
Other than that, I did some laundry and some dishes, and cleaned up the laundry room. It seemed like little enough, but I had to go back to work. At the Gallery. Where I quit two months ago. Where, on showing up I thought to catch up on filing, be taken out to lunch, and spend two hours training the finance assistant in some of my old duties, I found instead that I was expected to spend the entire day training an entirely new person who had been hired while I was away. Not that anyone thought to mention this to me.
I'm sorry. I'm grumpy. I worked a more-than-40-hour week, and then I moved, and then I worked six full days, and then I went to help my mother out for three days, and then I worked every day, and will work today, Saturday, and I am not. In. The. Best. Of. Moods.
Pakington Street Station is barely out of its boxes yet, and still a mess, which makes any luggage clerk growly.
{rf}
At last I can post. Coming to you live from the Left Luggage Office of Pakington Street Station, first stop on the Victoria Underground.
I think I managed to be useful for the few days I was staying with my mum. I helped her through a bit of slapstick comedy called
Going to the Doctor's Office
She needed a travel form to go across to Vancouver to see the specialist. One of those pink forms they give you to reimburse your ferry fare. So she called in and gave them all her information, and then we drove down to get it.
My job was to run in and pick up the form, since her mobility is so limited. The running in part was easy. The getting, not so much.
She said "Tell them you're here to pick up a form for Mrs. A. Mother, and that she called it in. I told them you'd be picking it up."
I jogged up to the counter. "I'm here to pick up a travel form for Mrs. A. Mother." I said. "She phoned it in."
"Is it filled in?" asked the nurse.
Well. Stumped in one. Was it filled in? I didn't know. I'd never seen it. I'd only even heard of its existence second hand.
"She phoned it in." I tried, hoping that would lead her towards some conclusion based on the information she had and I lacked.
"But is it filled out?" She blocked me expertly.
I searched my mind. "I don't know." I said. I tried to work up a theory. Maybe she meant had it already been used and was it just with the doctor for some final approval. "I guess... it's not." I said.
"That's what I wanted to know." She started filling one out. "Name of referring doctor?"
"Dr. First." I said confidently.
"Yes, but he's away. Who's the referring physician?"
So I ran back out to the car.
"I told them all that over the phone." said my mother.
"Dr. Second." I reported to the nurse.
"And the referral is to?"
"...Dr. First?" I said desperately. She was having none of that. I ran back to the car again and my increasingly bemused mother.
"Dr. Third." I reported, or would have if the nurse hadn't gone off to talk to a patient. I waited. Patiently. She returned.
"Dr. Third." I finally communicated.
"What's his physician number?"
I stared at her.
Then, and only then, a second nurse, who had been hovering in the background with a half-smile all this time, walked over and flicked a bit of pink paper taped up just out of my sight. "Here's your form, taped to the counter." she said.
Other Useful Things
We also went to the bank machine, so she could try out doing that by herself and see if it was possible. It was, though I must have seemed a right asshole watching the poor woman in the arm braces struggle with the door. Someone else swooped in and held it for her on the way out. Sigh.
Other than that, I did some laundry and some dishes, and cleaned up the laundry room. It seemed like little enough, but I had to go back to work. At the Gallery. Where I quit two months ago. Where, on showing up I thought to catch up on filing, be taken out to lunch, and spend two hours training the finance assistant in some of my old duties, I found instead that I was expected to spend the entire day training an entirely new person who had been hired while I was away. Not that anyone thought to mention this to me.
I'm sorry. I'm grumpy. I worked a more-than-40-hour week, and then I moved, and then I worked six full days, and then I went to help my mother out for three days, and then I worked every day, and will work today, Saturday, and I am not. In. The. Best. Of. Moods.
Pakington Street Station is barely out of its boxes yet, and still a mess, which makes any luggage clerk growly.
{rf}
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Dr. Godot will see you shortly
Date: 2006-03-11 07:06 pm (UTC)Glad to hear you have connection at the Station. P'raps the porter needs a lager? Grumpy old bear!
\i/
Re: Dr. Godot will see you shortly
Date: 2006-03-11 08:46 pm (UTC)Anyway.
Yes, I think a lager might be in order. Peacock and I can tell you all about the lovely gentlemen at the JBI who were at least considering trying to pick us up.
Re: Dr. Godot will see you shortly
Date: 2006-03-11 09:19 pm (UTC)I am off work downtown at 6pm. I can proceed to the nearest lager-dispensing location if you cite it to me. (Or the Beagle again?)
Would you do me the favour of calling London Drugs about the matter of the pointy things? I am, you know, working. Which I can't quite believe, on this gleaming day.
{rf}
Re: Dr. Godot will see you shortly
Date: 2006-03-11 09:20 pm (UTC)Benefits of rehearsing it on you...
{rf}
Re: Dr. Godot will see you shortly
Date: 2006-03-11 11:53 pm (UTC){rf}
one more try
Date: 2006-03-12 06:56 am (UTC)the gist was this: more boxes coming tomorrow, sorry, maybe couch can come too? short whine about moving including a discussion of the relative merits of moving all at once or over time,then the realization that at least I still have an apt, possessions, and cats. unlike my friend D's poor sister, who just lost pretty much everything in an apt fire. question: does anyone know how to find housing for a single woman living on disability, who thus has a ridiculously small amount to spend on such housing? It's damn clear that no-one at the provincial or municipal levels cares. (though the city did help out with emergency housing for a few days, and with a voucher for a few clothes/supplies, which was cool.)
only my first post was much wittier and more erudite, honest.