The eyes have it...

...the iris strikes back

The next morning, packed for Calgary and a quick stop at the eye clinic, I pick up my pal Elle. I come in the door jibber-jabbering about how fun the weekend is going to be. As she hoists her bag over her shoulder, she tells me she's been laid off.

Apparently, her dipshit boss wouldn't even sit in on the firing and had a sales rep and the art director do it. And Elle had conveniently finished all her projects that same day. Hmm... I guess the only good thing is that she'd been sick of this place since they imposed mandatory "beach days" (one forced, unpaid day-off per week) and suggested cutting back salaries 10%. Why don't they just beat a puppy in front of everyone? That'll get morale moving.

So because she was sick of this BS for a long-time coming, she'd already started resume dropping, her parents had offered her money for rent or food and she seemed fairly relieved that the ordeal was over. No more fussing with idiots who can't communicate and are driving a perfectly good company into the ground.

We arrived at the hospital that houses the eye clinic. I complained about the lame Dr. LePuke and she her lame-ass former boss, but were in good spirits. After all, we were going to see Hawksley Workman that night and were damned well going to have a rockin' girls' weekend.

But when we get to the eye clinic at the appointed time, 10 a.m., it's locked up tight. I call the information line at the front doors, because God forbid someone should be manning the reception desk at a hospital.

Information Lady: "Oh, the eye clinic is closed on Saturday."

Me: "But the on-call doctor made me an appointment today. Would Dr. H. be in another part of the hospital? He might be waiting to see me."

Information Lady: "Good question. You could try going to Emergency. If they don't know there, you could try Unit 22."

Me: (gulp!) "Emergency?"

Elle and I head for the Emergency ward. I hadn't been in emergency since I broke my toe many, many years ago. And that was in a much nicer, suburban-area hospital which only saw broken arms, bad coughs and maybe a stomach ache. At the downtown hospital, I swear I saw a drug dealer. Others were having heart attacks, hacking their lungs out or rolling around drunkenly in a wheel chair with his arm wrapped up like a mummy.

All I wanted were some eye drops!

Elle took one look around and raced outside. So there I stood, alone in the emergency room line, simply waiting for directions. You don't cut in front of the heart attack guy for directions.

When it was my turn to see the nurse at the desk, she told me to go to the mysterious Unit 22 and again said that the eye clinic is closed on the weekend. No shit. I may not know where I'm going, but I know damned well that Dr. LePuke booked me for the f-[gratuitious language] eye clinic.

Up in the Unit 22 and reunited with Elle, I explain again to a brand new nurse what the situation is: Dr. LePuke, appointment, eye clinic, information desk, emergency, Unit 22. She smiles and leads me around to the opthamalogy area, where two opthamalogists are checking patients with cataracts, glaucoma -- you name it, you don't want it. But I have an appointment! I get to jettison ahead of these 20 other people! Woo-hoo!

Nurse: "Do you have your paperwork?"

Me: "What paperwork? I didn't get any papers."

Nurse: "You'll have to go back to the other desk or go back to Admitting."

Admitting? I was never there. Or at least there was no one at the desk I went to. What is this Admitting?

Blood boiling I returned to the Unit 22 desk, where three nurses fluttered back and forth. I have an appointment! Elle checks the time. We should have been in Calgary by now, visiting the zoo animals and laughing at Calgarians.

Me: "We should just fucking leave. This is ridiculous. If this is so serious..."

Elle: "Did you want to go? We're already here."

Me: "Let's go."

My feet don't move, but I manage to move around the desk and look away from Elle. I can't stand it anymore. Half my day is already gone, because the on-call doctor is a fool, I keep getting the runaround, the Unit 22 nurses are ignoring me, I'm tired and my eye is sore and I don't know what's wrong with me and I had to stand in that scary emergency room with people with real problems and--

Then the waterworks came. I haven't cried in a long time. And this wasn't a sad cry. I'm just an emotional crier (happy, sad, angry -- it's all the same). This time I was pissed off.

(To be continued...)