Blood Lab

I enter the hospital holding my breath (cause I can do that now) praying the place won't be packed. I came at lunch time. Surely people will be home stuffing their faces with soups, sandwiches and cheesies, right? 

I make my way down the long hallway. Halfway down I spot three heads sitting outside the waiting area. 

Not good news. 

They watch me. Likely entertainment for them; waiting to see my expression upon rounding the corner. 

I perform. The room looks like a beehive. Or a rave. Bodies everywhere. The buzzing of conversation between strangers. The screaming of numbers by the clerks. 

I take a step back and groan under my breath. I notice the number on the wall. 121. 

I press the button at the ticket station. #136. The approximate wait time shows 1 hour, 40 minutes. I seriously contemplate doing a 180 and stomping out. 

However, reality hits. I can't. This blood work is required. I need to be a good girl. A good patient. We need these results. 

I maneuver my way through the crowded room, trying not to knock knees or fall into laps. 

I try not to think of the germs. The illnesses that lurk in these stranger's bodies. 

Please don't anyone cough. Please don't  make me sick. 

A number is called. 

"#103!!!" 

What the???  

Is this a joke? 

So much time goes by. Numbers are not being called.  We all sit and stare at each other. 

In the corner I listen to a group talking. It's comforting, the things they discuss. Such randomness. 

For once I am silent. Just taking it all in. 

Finally, my number is called. It's so exciting. But only for a brief moment, until you realize that after this step you still have years to wait before you are called in to be poked. 

While being processed, I make an inquiry. Is there something in place for post-transplant patients? Something to protect us from a crowded waiting room? Another waiting area for immunosuppressed patients perhaps?

The answer - no. 

This isn't the right answer. I'm going to have to look into this.