I had to be at the doctor's office at 7:30 this morning. I left home about 7 and was doing great until I got there. "There" was no longer the doctor's office. There was a big sign saying it was a Detox Center now but when I looked through the glass door it appeared to be still under remodeling. No one anywhere.
So I called SWMBO. She was asleep and didn't hear the phone. I left a message that said, in an aggravated tone, "I don't know where the hell I'm supposed to be!"
Then I called the BRD. I told her what my problem was but in my panic at being late and maybe having the surgery canceled, I couldn't remember my doctor's name. I've been seeing him for years but I was suddenly having instant Alzheimer's syndrome. The BRD started through the yellow pages, looking for eye doctors. After a bit of fumbling on both our parts, I remembered his last name. She found it and said his office was clear up in the north part of town. I was pretty much in the Central part. I thanked her and took off, faster than I should have, but keeping a wary eye (the good one) out for police cars.
Then I called her back and got the telephone number of the doc's office. When I called it a recording said the office wasn't open but if I had an eye emergency I could call a different number. By this time, my supply of expletives was running out. But I called the other number, got an answering service, explained my problem and asked her to try to reach the office and tell them I was on my way. She put me on eternal hold but finally came back and said she had delivered the message.
When I got to the area where the doc's office was located, I found a huge office park. Each building looked like the other and I had forgotten the address. So I called the BRD back and got the number and finally found the office.
Somewhat relieved, I got out of my car, went to the door and . . . it was locked! I saw a sidewalk going around the end of the building, took it and found a window with a young woman behind it. I knocked on her window, pointed at my eye and she opened up to tell me that my surgery would take place in an adjacent building.
I found it and went in, noting the name on the door: Stillwater Surgical Suite.
They were waiting for me and when I apologized for being late the nurse said, "no problem" the doctor was in surgery.
When I finally got to see the doctor, I asked him if he was from Minnesota. He said he wasn't. I told him in Minnesota, Stillwater is a town where the state prison is located. He laughed and said, "No, no Freudian slip."
I was told by one of the other patients in the lobby that the doctor had moved his practice about a year ago to these new digs. But I usually see him in consulting offices in my town, which is about eight miles away. I hadn't been to Prescott to have surgery for over a year.
Well that was hours ago now. I can see nearly perfectly out of both of my eyes now and life is good once again.
