Multiple Sclerosis explores the new pavillion
Turns out, I AM a Barbie girl.
If Barbie was a perpetually confused, middle aged woman with a slight attitude, MS, and a ton of fatigue.
And sneakers.
None of those little, pink, plastic heals for me, thank you very much.
Actually, this multiple sclerosis blog has nothing to do with Barbie. But in my medical overwhelmingness, I had a follow-up appointment at a building named for her.
Well, not for Barbie exactly, but for one of her friends with a name that sounds exactly like “Barbie” but is spelled differently.
I threw the doll in the mix just for fun.
I have been cancer free for seven blessed years. To hope, pray and make sure things stay that way, routine checks are needed.
My local hospital has just built a new cancer center, and I had yet to have an appointment there. This visit would be my first.
I’m blessed but these appointments obviously still stir up apprehension. What I didn’t expect was the mind maze I found myself in.
I will save you the anticipation and state that no new areas of concern were discovered.
And I know many people who also must visit this new center and none of them experienced the issues I did. It is a wonderful building designed to help people go through the likely toughest medical challenge they have yet to face, and our rural area is lucky to have it.
This blog is about what my tired, confused multiple sclerosis brain experienced when MS decided to mess with me as I approached yet another medical appointment.
First, I couldn’t find the door.
Or at least, not the right door.
The construction was mostly complete but the only door I could find was down a long pathway bordered by scaffolding covered with “Hard Hats and Goggles Required Zone” signs.
I didn’t have either but as far as I could tell there was no other door available. I did my best to shield my head and cover my eyes as I rushed through the automatic sliding doors.
And they did open.
They opened to a sign that read, “Main Hospital” with an arrow pointed left that directed me straight into a solid brick wall and an arrow pointing right that said “Cancer Center.”
It was the cancer center I needed so I wisely turned right.
I passed an empty reception desk and then saw two elevators and another sign that said my doctor was on the second floor. One of the elevators was propped open and filled with construction equipment and had a “Do Not Use” sign. I got into the other elevator and the doors closed.
I tried to select the second floor but there wasn’t one. The buttons were 1, 3, 4.
Huh?
This was when I wondered if I was on Candid Camera.
I pushed 3 and when those doors opened, I was clearly on a floor with a nurse’s station and several hospital rooms. As I stepped out of the elevator to ask what the hell happened to the second floor, an alarm went off. One of the nurses shouted a room number and several went hustling.
Clearly there was an emergency and while confusing, not being able to find a whole floor was not a life-or-death situation. Understandably I was hesitant to ask what to do.
But one nurse remained and asked me what I needed. I explained my predicament and she said I took the wrong elevator.
“But the other was propped open with construction equipment and said do not use.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
‘You’re telling me,’ I thought.
She didn’t seem to have any clue what advice to give me, so I inquired about stairs.
“Oh right, stairs. Follow me.”
Good thing I did because
A.I never would have found them and
B. Once you entered the stairwell you needed a key card to get out.
She unlocked the second-floor door and I thanked her.
I found my doctor’s name, checked in and sat down to wait my turn.
It was then that an elderly gentlemen came up to me and announced, “I just had my liver taken out.”
Huh again?
He didn’t look bloody from recent surgery.
And again, I thought, ‘am I on Candid Camera?’
Then the man proceeded to talk at me while giving me far too many details about his life; even taking his phone out to show me pictures of his pets and kids. He joked about his wife’s life insurance policy. Or maybe he was joking about his life insurance policy on his wife.
I couldn’t ask for two reasons.
A. He didn’t pause for questions and
B. The whole time he was talking at me a woman came from behind the check- out desk, glared at me and circled us several times, never calling my name.
Eventually another woman came from a separate direction and called for me. I bid adieu to my talking friend and my stalking friend and followed this second woman. As she seemed normal, I felt secure in her hands.
Especially since she was clumsy like me. We got to an exam room, she opened a cabinet to pull a gown out and when she did, she knocked a plastic basket, like the kind Barbie would carry, onto the floor.
All the items in the basket spilled out. Gauze, bandages, tongue depressors and black tips littered the immaculate, new floor. She wouldn’t let me help her pick things up. Once she collected everything, she threw the unwrapped black tips- the plastic thingys that go into patients’ ears, noses and mouths- away.
It seemed like a waste. The room was spotless; I wouldn’t tell.
The rest of the appointment went smoothly, and I was cleared for another year.
Upon leaving I found the two elevators, on the second floor!
Where did they come from?
What happened to the elevator that I couldn’t get out of?
I held my breath and pushed 1.
The doors opened onto an area I had never seen.
Where was I?
In Barbie world?
I walked a bit, trying to get my bearing and found the elevators from before around the corner.
Ok, I just missed the right set of elevators when I found the wrong set of elevators.
I started to leave the way I came in and the door I had used earlier said “Emergency Exit Only.”
That made sense.
I must have come in the wrong way too. I just needed to find the right way. I saw signs that read “Exit” and followed them.
But there weren’t any exits!!!
One door led to a very long hallway that probably led to the main hospital. I didn’t need to go to the main hospital- I needed to go to my car.
I followed the other “Exit” sign, and it led to another brick wall!
“All in all, you’re just another brick in the wall….”
Which is exactly what I felt like.
This was beyond normal multiple sclerosis confusion.
I decided to be a rebel and exit through the “Emergency Exit Only” door I came in because it did feel like an emergency- the emergency of getting out of this building and out of the confused maze in my head.
Once outside, to try to calm my own anxious mind, I decided to circle the entire building and look for the actual entrance I was supposed to use.
And as far as I could ascertain, it didn’t exist!!
I shook it off, climbed into my Barbie car, drove out of the Barbie Cancer Center parking lot and came home.
Fortunately, I was able to find the right door to my apartment-no signs needed..
To my friends and fellow patients of the center,
May you find what you need right when you need it
Sending you all well wishes for hope and healing
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