A FedEx plane is currently winging its way between us and the Really Famous Hospital; in its hold is our exquisitely compiled encyclopedic history of P.'s medical history, beginning, as per Dr. God's instructions, with "P. was born...." It goes on a bit from there, given that P. was born some time ago.
I'm assuming that the plane will land safely, that the dudes in the brown uniforms will read the address correctly (they better, the address taped to the box is written in 20-point font), and that they are capable of delivering said box on Monday morning at RFH as per the pricey deal I arranged on Saturday.
Actually, I would have been willing to pay even more if there were a guarantee that an especially handsome FedEx guy would be hired for this specific job (the better to get the RGH's clerks' attention) and that he would be trained to adopt a beseeching expression as he hands the box to Dr. God's assistant, saying, "Look, this is really important. Could I implore you to see that the doctor reviews these records immediately?"
Instead, what I know will happen, despite the $44.30 I forked over at the FedEx store, is that the guys in the brown truck will pull up to a general mail room at RFH, and our box, along with a lot of other really important FedEx boxes, will just get tossed into the overall hospital mail system. The box will eventually get loaded onto a squeaky cart that some bored guy will wheel in a desultory fashion around the medical complex, tossing boxes on various desks as he goes. I picture him yakking on his cell phone as he walks the halls and parking the cart in the hall to sneak cigarette breaks when his supervisor isn't around. Maybe he'll get around to lobbing our box on the right desk on Monday; maybe he won't.
Or maybe I'm just fixated too much on these records, eh?
And, um, in case, you RFH representatives are reading this, I'm sure that each and every one of the mail room employees are fine people who would never thing of taking unauthorized breaks for a hit of nicotine! And all of them are ok with being in a minimum wage job all day long! Really!
1 comment:
Dear Ms. McCruddy,
Not on the topic of today's post, but:
Don't worry too much about other readers. I mean, who are we really writing for? I assume that in large part we write for ourselves, and in even larger part for each other! Do you know I checked your blog eight times in the past two days to see if you had posted?
As for the records, I'm feeling anxious about them too - I suppose at some point we can check to make sure they got to the right spot?
Let me know if you need any help with anything.
Love,
The Older McCruddyKid
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