Today was a rough day. I had an appointment at the eye doctor. Now for me that means I have to go to the only VA hospital around, through the labyrinth that all hospitals are set up in, up to the 8th floor in a box filled with people I don’t know to the Dr’s office. Did I mention there is no easy and fast means of getting the heck out of there? I knew it was going to be a bit taxing on me so I decided to leave Boss at home. He isn’t ready to pull me out of those situations. So I’m on my solo mission into the heart of the optometrist’s office. I get called in quickly so the waiting room trap I narrowly avoid. I know for sure that sitting in that room with umpteen million different things going on would set my fuze to BOOM. I get in the first lab room and all goes well. I get carted to a second waiting room which was small enough that I could handle, then into a second evaluation room to see the doctor. I’m starting to get a bit uneasy about the journey it will take to get me out of a situation… you know , the kind normal people know will never come. Doctor finishes and now my eyes are numb and dialated. To say my vision was off is an understatement. Here comes the fun part. I have to pull a number like at the deli and then wait my turn to be called.
“Excuse me, what is the wait time looking like?”
“At the very least an hour.”
At this point I am stuck between going home, and getting the glasses the doctor just told me I need. So I do what anyone with that much time and a filthy habit would do. I went outside to smoke. Now, any military member knows about the designated smoke decks. If you find room on any of them, then it’s probably closed. Just my luck, everyone is in there nut to butt. The difference is that this is a VA hospital and not a military base. So you get jammed between people on scooters, being pushed in wheel chairs, carrying oxygen (yes I know the irony) or pulling their heart monitor around. How do you make a chaotic smoke deck worse? Add chaotic equipment. The good news is that it’s a VA hospital not a military base. See, I am no longer in the military. I am a disabled veteran a.k.a. someone who no longer has to listen to higher ups. So I grab my little stick of calm down and walk the parking lot to my ride who is waiting to drive my blinded by the light self home. I take advantage of the time and have not but two smokes… think of it as a pregame warm up only I’m trying to cool off.
The time to head back into the hospital comes, and I lower my head and push on. I get upstairs to the waiting area(s) and try to assess the situation a bit. Here is the low down. There are three small waiting rooms for glasses. Each looks like they just put chairs in a restroom. I’m not kidding either. The sinks were still in there and marks on the floor where the trash can use to be. Each of these waiting rooms has 4-7 people in them. Just imagine that next time you go into a public restroom! Needless to say that is not an option. There is a 10ft hall that connects these rooms to the main lobby. There are 3 people waiting in the hall talking about fishing. Ask me why I know this. It’s sad the detail I can go into. Ok, those are all out of the question. I guess my best bet is to stand in the main lobby. There is a wall I can put my back to and lots of room for me to maneuver should I end up in that doomsday scenario that my mind keeps telling me is going to happen. For right now this is the best option.
Time goes by for a bit, and people come and go. What I haven’t pointed out yet is that this main lobby is where everyone checks in to see the doctor, waits to be called for the doctor, checks in for glasses, waits for glasses, complains to the guy handing out numbers about how long they have waited, nurses bull shit about their vacations….. I think you are starting to get the picture. Now the check in guy is parallel parking scooter driving patients on my safe wall. Its officially time for me to move. But where to? Let’s recheck the areas. Damn! Just as packed as before. Now my heart starts picking up a bit more than usual. I glance at the number sign. “Now serving way too damn low a number you’re officially doomed to wait forever.” I can feel my pulse in my hands. That heart thing that was kinda beating at first? It’s at overload speed now. So now I am in a bad place, in bad shape, can’t leave, and the more I realize it the worse it gets. OK Sean, start walking (read pacing) and try to get control of your heart rate. My heart rate continues to increase and now there is an all out fiery rage is building inside. Keep walking Sean. Take deep breaths Sean. Why is everyone looking at me? Don’t just stare at me, help me out here. Why aren’t they trying to help me? I have to keep moving. Take deep breaths and keep walking.
“Number 222?!?”
“That’s me.”
“Come on in and have a seat.”
Ok, this is it. I can finish this and get the hell out of Dodge. I can almost get out of this hell. Almost there, just keep taking deep breaths. I know, fidget with your I.D.
“Sit down, relax.”
Buddy if I could relax I would. As of right now the only thing between a normal day and d-day in this place is my self control, and I’m not sure how long that will last. I’ll sit just to shut you up.
“You can pick any frame on that wall”
I glance at the wall pick two frames and try them on. One looks better than the other, so it’s the winner. I don’t have time for queer eye to help with this straight guy’s selection.
“These are fine.”
Rico not so suave bangs on his keyboard a bit… “Ok your all set”
“Thanks”
Like that I am free to leave. It’s only been about 4 hours, but I can leave. I head to the elevators. I get in and somehow I am the only one. Remember how I said I was on the 8th floor? That elevator stopped at every single floor on the way down. By the time we were at the 5th floor the elevator had enough people to form a baseball team. Still more came on. I am stuck in the back corner, unable to move, evaluating everyone for the one who will start the war. Ding, first floor. Everyone pours out of the overcrowded elevator like sand out of a dump truck. I hesitate just long enough to give myself room to react. Sweet freedom will have to wait. Now I am fighting my way through a crowd of pissed off vets bitching about their level of care but making it so that mine doesn’t matter anymore. Everyone is clamouring to get on or off the only 4 elevators in the world. I think I saw that somewhere. Sean, just hold it together a little bit longer. Keep taking those deep breaths. SHIT!!!!! What way is the exit from this bottle neck? Take deep breaths and just pick a way.
I finally get out and to the vehicle where my father and nephew are waiting. Now the shame begins. I can’t stop shaking. My leg is bouncing so fast my shorts aren’t moving. My heart keeps pounding, and I am sure someone can hear it because its beating so hard. I keep taking deep breaths but I want to puke.
“Uncle Sean…….” I have no clue what he said
“How did it go?”
I know it was my dad, but I couldn’t think straight enough to answer. An hour and half later I get home, head straight to the medicine cabinet, and down some more drugs. It wasn’t for a full 3 hours after taking the drugs that my heart slows enough to consider it normal.
Today all those people went on their normal lives. They will never know how they affected me. They will never know how close I came to losing control. All they see is a 30yo who needed glasses. If they only knew that one person asking me if I was ok could have avoided everything. They won’t see it. They can’t see it. There is no wheelchair that can carry my wounds. Even in a place that sees more PTSD than any other hospital, I suffer to myself.
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