Results day?

Today is supposed to be the day that I get the results of my PET and CT scans.
Somehow I very much doubt that this will prove to be the case.

Yesterday's CT scan took a mind (and arse) numbing 5 hrs to get through as a combination of broken machinery, short staffedness (it's Memorial Day weekend) and 'mediacal emergencies' clogged up the corridor in which I was asked to take near permanent resisdence. Had I spent much longer there I'd have needed to a visa, I swear.

Why they have a plush waiting room and yet insist that all CT patients wait for their scans in a draughty corridor I have no idea.

Still the cast of characters kept me amused.

Old Mr Grace - must have been about 97 - in years and lbs. He was ambulatory only with the help of a walker that looked like a half dalek and a nurse that looked like a half amazon. His trips to the bathroom were frequent and lengthy; his walk to the CT machine held me up by another 20 minutes and he never spoke. Not even to say "You've all done terribly well"

The Drinker - was a dark haired, jewish woman in her 50s. She didn't stop talking. Primarily because she'd turned up late for her appointment and was told that she was now at the back of a LONG line, but also because she's overheard one of the nurse's say "oh god, The Drinker's back". This precipitated much pacing, muh repeating of both the late and drinker story and my favorite "I'm an x-ray patient, not a mental patient"

The Coffin Dodger - came in with her mustachio'd son. He looked, dressed and sounded exactly like the Simpson's earnest neighbor and seemed OUTRAGED that HIS mother had to wait. Especially as she'd left her oxygen in the car. A master of the audible sigh and meaningful look at the watch he became rather stiff in the shoulders having told me 'It's 4.15 pm, my mom has a 4.00pm appointment" and being told "Well mine's a 2.15 appointment and there are two people in line in front of me"

The drugged up mullet - came in as an 'emergency'. Walked as though in a stupor, spoke through thick lips with a thick accent, had a husband wearing a wife beater who sported 'I beat my wife' tattoos. Quite frankly everyone was astonished that they'd managed to park their trailer anywhere near the hospital - and that Jerry Springer didn't show up. 'Drugged Up Mullet' claimed it was only the 'Xanax' that was making her slow, dizzy and dozy (she couldn't open doors) - we believed it may have been genetic.

The Razor Hipped Ho - another emergency. Except she arrived in agony and left when there was a wait. Olive skinned, collogen lipped and wearing what my have been illegally tight jeans she sashay'd up and down the corridor wailing 'they said to come here' but left when her mom / pimp / mompimp turned up and demanded to know "Why you aren't at work, girl"

And finally The Must Obey Orders Frauline - a german woman in her early 70s who patroled the benches demanding that cell phones be turned off, that barium liquids were drunk at the stated intervals and that the hospital pay reparations for her delay.

It was a LONG wait, but I have to say that I (The Vampire?) rather enjoyed it