Not so urgent, urgent care.

I waited nearly three months before my rational brain kicked in, and I had a very good friend usher me to the Memorial Urgent Care Center...I suppose that means it wasn't so urgent, if waited that long.

My throat had been quite the bother, my limp nods swollen, tonsils a massive red blob in the back of my mouth; which intern was putting pressure on an old problem, my left ear.

I was never really sick as a child. I had ear infections as a kid, but that was the only thing that ever was a medical constant. I never was bed ridden, had chicken pox and mumps at the same the time when I was a baby. I guess I was never sick for three very good reasons. One: I was too busy getting bruised. Two: I was busy eating. Three: I was asleep for a very large portion of my childhood.
Now I am distressed, why; if at anytime I had to be either one, couldn't I have been a sickly child and a healthy adult, rather than the reverse?
I now have a multitude of medical ailments, without proper diagnoses because I haven't the money or medical insurance ( which is a complete pain in the ass, and totally unfair...but I will wait another day to rant about that!) to see a doctor.

Walking into the cliche florescent lit, pale painted office; I went straight to the front desk and filled out a yellow paper form, asking the usual questions of date, age,SSN, and problem...being asked any question was a thoroughly embarrassing and painful process...you see, I couldn't swallow so I had to spit the constant accumulation of saliva out of my mouth in order to speak, and being a lady...I hate spitting, but the ordeal of swallowing was just too much pain throughout the day. In the case of the clinic I was just forced to bare it (without the grin, though lord knows I tried) I then waited for three hours to be seen by a nurse, who then ask me more questions.

I was told to sit and wait again. As I read Lolita by Nabokov, I was becoming worried, a sound started to infiltrate my thoughts, a curious crunching sound...A slight panic that my pain might have made me delusional, I then looked to my left...A very large black lady with a white shirt. speackled with flowers and pink jeans was munching on a cup of ice, as if it were to be her last meal. I quickly got up and moved, I didn't really care that she gave me a dirty look because I was already cursing her to an early grave.

Again my name was murderously called over the crowd and I was soon ushered to a back room. "So how are we feeling?" said the male nurse...you have got to be kidding, a series of slick remarks filled my mind, but seeing how speaking was just not my thing today, I settled for a short sarcastic response "Peachy." I sat on the bed offered and watch t.v for nearly half an hours time before the doctor finally came to see me.

What a bitch, she was condesending, rude, and above all very quick...She asked me what was wrong, and I told her, she told me everyone was ill and I probably had what they did. I understand that she may see nearly a hundred people a day, but I only she her...diagnose me, not everyone...thanks. Then this rude woman crammed a tongue depresser in my mouth and I began to cry...it fucking hurt! she said something I didn't hear, then told me a nurse would be in to give me a pain killer and antibiotics,gave me a blanket, turned and left...I gave her the finger as I wipped away my salty tears.

Now I don't know why or how, but bigits tend to show up in the most retared of places. This white guy in a baseball cap, who came in right behind me, laid on the bed diagonal from mine ( you could tell he was white trash)...I remember his name was Mildred (so help me God that was his name!) there was a spanish women opposite him with her daughter...granted it's kind of rude to answer your phone loudly in a clinic, but it's even more rude to bitch at the person for it,tell her you are too sick to listen to and I quot" A hispanic bitch on a goddanm phone!", and then proceed to threaten to have her ass kicked in the parking lot by making one simple phone call, but then ( and I nearly jumped off my bed a through open the curtain to yell at this guy when he said this:) "your mess'n with an American!" Are you fucking serious! but the woman was simplely prefect in her response"And what the hell do you think I am?! I AM AN AMERICAN!"

The nurse came in another half and hour latter, a very sweet dark haired women, with glasses, and a grandmotherly kind smile. Two very large needles in hand. Oh Jesus...she patted her hind end with a "yep that's where their going." kind of nod and I turned around and this time cried out of embaressment.
The pain killer came first, which caused more pain, and then the big gulp sized anitbiotic...good lord I hated my life at that moment. She patted me on the back and cooed over me as I laid back down in a fetal quit sob on the bed once more. Rocking from the pain I couldn't seem to make my muscles stop moving, but for a short time I fell asleep, and then woke again to sob some more. I had a bit of intuition (though I admit I really got up to walk out, thinking thats what I was supossed to do.) and began to put my sweater on then my shoes, got up from the bed and the nurse came in right then, alittle surpized. With Rx and pamfletes in hand, she told me what I really had (the bitchy Doctor told me to my face that she thought it was my annual flare up of strep...I knew it wasn't!) ready for it guys!? Ok...it's called a...Peritonsillar Abscess. Basically; and I'm sorry if you are eating, but my tonsil is a great big puss ball, which was caused by bacteria beign trapped by my new wisdom teeth that have been comeing in...guess now what I have to do...get them removed, and maybe my tonsils too!

I guess if you have to go into major debt (which I am already) it should be over medical bills rather than a car.