I still need tickets to LAX, but the trip to New Zealand and Rarotonga is paid for. $1575 takes me to Auckland and Rarotonga, and includes the Sydney back to LAX leg. Naturally, the only seats available to me are center seats. I just hope I'm not in the middle of a Samoan sandwich. Dey's Big Bruddah's, you bet!
The phone call to my Doctor's office was less than fruitful; I hoped to get a quick appointment in for anti-malaria medicine. Sounds simple enough, right?
No. I called and was placed on hold for ten minutes. The medical professionals feel obligated to have "Lite 95 FM" piped into the hold circuit.
I HATE F#%&$(@ LITE music!!!!! Air Supply? DIE! Jack Wagner? DIE!. And so on.
Soooo, ten long minutes goes by and one of the helpful ladies (This is a rated PG blog, I can't say any more) says she can't hear me, and I should call back.
Of course, like a complete tool I comply. Ten more minutes of the Lite Country, Lite Country 92 FM.
My taste in music also does not extend to caterwauling, modern Country Chanteuse's wailing about how they love their good for nothing skinny cowboys.
Finally, another nice lady picks up and apologizes for the poor phone reception.
"Could I see the Doctor for about fifteen minutes, sometime in the next week?" I nicely asked.
"Which one?" Was the quick reply.
"Either one would be ok. I am traveling to the South Pacific and I would like to get a prescription for anti-malarial drugs."
"Oh, we can't do that. We don't carry that kind of medicine."
Smart girl, oh yes indeed.
"I understand. I just need the prescription and I will take it to the Naval Hospital, where I am sure they have boxes of such items. They seem to do a lot of traveling over there."
"Well, we can't help you. I talked to the Doctor, he says you have to go to Shands Hospital (They are associated with University of Florida and are the health care providers to the indigent) and talk to the Public Health people, there."
"So what you are telling me is that I won't get any anti-malarial pills, right? Ok. I will just go without. You've been a great help, have a nice afternoon..."
Now I know why many men will get prostate cancer, they just don't feel like being emasculated by the medical front desk workers. Why would any self respecting man having problems urinating want to go through the triage area set up by these nice people?
At dinner last night, I was telling my frustrated fable to She Who Will Be Obeyed, and she comes up with a very agreeable solution; "I'll call Eric (Doctor Eric...) he can write a prescription for you."
And I won't have to endure "Lite Music". Why did I just go through all of the previous?
This is why women run the health care industry and the access points to medical care. They just know all the rules for access, while I beat my head against brick walls.
Speaking of frustration; The Spousal Unit worked from home yesterday. Our brand new Kenmore stove had a oven window malfunction while snickerdoodles were being baked. Shattered like my dreams of importance, it did. A call to Sears last Sunday, she explained it was the inner glass and when can we get a technician to fix it?
"Oh, and will you tell the technician that it is THE INNER GLASS, so the tech will not come out and confirm that it is broken glass, and say that another tech will come out with the glass, next week?"
"The technician will be there on Thursday, between 12:00 and 5:00. Be there, hmmm?" Sayeth Sears, in Mumbai.
At 3:30 yesterday, a technician calls the house to say she is on her way, what is the trouble with your Kenmore stove?"
At that very moment, two miles away at my office I was startled by the crack! of a tactical nuclear weapon. The email soon rumbled in explaining that our worst fears were realized. Only now, was the glass for the oven being ordered from the factory and it will be here next week. This because the Mumbai branch of Sears/Kmart did not communicate with the Bangalore branch of Sears/Kmart technicians of the nature of our oven malfunction. (Probably a Caste issue, as an American, I could never understand)
I am scheduled for innoculations at the Naval Hospital, next week. Surely, that will go well, because it has to hurt. Believe it or not, it sounds like they have their act together, at least in the overseas prep section. They do a lot of traveling there... I will have my good attitude with me when the visit happens. There are some really good folks there who fight and bleed for me and thee, and I am honored that they would take the time to help me prepare for my journey.
Plus, if I give them any lip, I might find myself processing for a return to active duty and traveling to a sandy place where I might not have any fun at all.
Thanks to our military forces, (and my own 20+ years of service) I get to go sailing in the South Pacific and have fun.
I will try to stay humbled by that thought, and be grateful that I get to go through the steps I take for the departure.
It's all good!
Have a great Friday, ok?