Friday, June 19, 2015

Of needles and nasty drivers

All was well yesterday at my new favorite destination, The Kraft Blood Donor Center, except for the last 15 minutes or so after I had gotten up to go to the bathroom and the placement of the needle must have gotten jiggled a little.

As previously noted, I usually have to get up once. The nurse puts a board under my arm so that I will not bend it. Nothing terrible happened but the pain was pretty bad. A trainer from Epic (the new computer system) was done for the day because they were backed up and I was the last patient. He entertained me with tales of living in Abu Dhabi, where the king gives every citizen 1,000 dirham for each boy baby and 500 for each girl, creating a society where the living is easy but no one wants to work too hard.

I was l0 minutes late getting downstairs due to the backup upstairs. My ride from Veterans taxi was not in front. The dispatcher called just when I was about to call and said the driver was actually on Brookline Avenue, not at the entrance where I was standing on Jimmy Fund Way, where the pickups and drop offs usually are.

The driver got out and, I am not exaggerating, SCREAMED at me, "You're late, you're late, you're supposed to be on time!" Then he said he had been waiting just up ahead and screamed again, "Did you not see me?" After which he changed his story and said he was actually driving around the block. I cannot believe that a driver picking someone up from Dana-Farber yells at the patient for being late. I am not sure if it will make a difference, but a complaint with The Ride is due.

We made two stops at housing complexes. (Where a driver would be justified in pointing out someone's tardiness...but not screaming.) First, to pick up a blind gentleman who sat in the front.
Then to pick up a woman who was so fat that she could not buckle up her seatbelt. The driver had to get out and help her. Her stuff spilled over onto my lap and I asked if she would mind moving it a little.

The driver said everyone should open the windows. The man in front opened his all the way, which caused my hair to blow around like crazy in the back. I asked him to close it a little and he asked why we were opening them in the first place.

I knew why. The woman reeked of smoke. The driver said, "Because it smells like smoke."

I said why didn't we just all open our windows a crack.

This was agreed upon and nothing else was said.

It was nice to have a glass of wine with Diane and eat some good chicken and grilled vegetables that David had previously prepared. I'm afraid that Diane got an earful.

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