Jun 8, 2020


I'm not going to do it.


Not going to.

I'm not going to give in to the crazy chaos that has been trying to bite me in the rumpus this morning.

I awoke at the heiney crack of dawn, took my shower, brushed my teeths, etc, and headed out into the hinterlands for my second covid test and labwork. The plan was to get this all done, receive a negative result from Friday's covid test and chest x-ray and head to dialysis for treatment.


After waiting in the drive through line (next to an enormous sign that said "WAIT HERE TOR COVID TESTING") for about forty minutes, a security guard came over and told me that the covid testing line was at the back of the building.

(Insert expletives here, but only silent ones, because God forbid I act like one of the ill-bred heathens from last week.)

So I smile and wave my thanks and head to the back of the building.

When the nurse came out to gather my information, I explained that I had appointments for covid testing and labwork and she explained that the lab people weren't there today.

(More expletives.)

(But again...only silent ones.)

So she shoved the q-tip up my nose and then told me that results would be back in seven to nine days, not in the twenty four to forty eight hours they said on Friday.


From there, it was a very quick drive to dialysis, but I was met outside by one of the nurses with a torch and pitchfork (OK, maybe not really, but it certainly felt like that), and she very apologetically explained that I could not come in until I had two negative covid test results returned and verified by the health department, a papal blessing, seven forms of picture id, evidence of penance, and a receipt from the car wash that I had been cleaned and sanitized.

"I haven't had treatment since last Wednesday", I replied. "Isn't that eventually going to kill me?"

At which point she shrugged her shoulders and said "Hey, kid...you've had a nice ride. We all have to go sometime" and walked back inside.

(OK, so maybe that last part was just to see if you're still paying attention.)

Looks like I will be going downtown South Bend tomorrow morning at 5:30 and will have my d-chair treatments there for the foreseeable future.

In the meantime, I still need to figure out how to get the labwork done, since my family doc has called twice in the last ten minutes wanting to know if it's done yet.

La dee da, la dee da, la dee da.

I'm going to take my damn good, my book, and my stitching out to the bird chirping concert and will just pretend like this is a normal Monday.

How's your day going so far?


  1. Love, love, love your outdoor room! The balcony is so inviting. I'd love to come and stitch with you, especially today.

  2. I'm sorry to hear you've been going through such difficulty just to get this testing done. I hope the results come back sooner than expected, and negative of course! I hope things work well at the new treatment center,too. Your balcony looks lovely, hope you enjoy your afternoon.

  3. Ditto on your outdoor room. As for the rest; boo miss! Do something great for you today@!!!!🤗

  4. Coni, sorry your day blew up. Somedays it pays to go back home and say the hell with it! I don't want to cause more problems but can the Dialysis draw your labs tomorrow and send them? I don't know how things are connected, etc, but could you doctor send order there to get them done if insurance etc would cover them?

  5. Oh holy cow, what a mess! I am glad that you managed to keep your cool. Try to continue to keep it together, because as we read last week, no one else is managing to do so!

    Hang in there!

  6. What a cluster! I'm proud of you because I think I would have had a 3-year old melt down complete with drumming my heels on the floor. You get an A++++! I just know good karma will shine on you very soon! XOXOXO m

  7. Oh my goodness! I don't even know what to say......
    However on the bright side I love your outdoor space and admire your patience and politeness today. Hugs!

  8. Horrific. What a miserable day. I'm so sorry. Makes you want to just give up on trying sometimes, doesn't it? But, hang in there! You made it through without killing even one single person! Good on you.

  9. This is my very favorite paragraph.
    "I'm going to take my damn good, my book, and my stitching out to the bird chirping concert and will just pretend like this is a normal Monday."
    I sure hope you can relax and enjoy this part of your day!

    1. Why does that say Unknown?

    2. Has to do with whether you are "signed in" with a google profile. I always used to be be Unknown until I set up a profile. Under the box you type in, there is line saying Reply as: and giving some choices.

  10. I’m pretty sure I would have dissolved into a puddle of tears! Hang in there!

  11. What?????? What sensitivity that nurse pulled from her back
    pocket !!!She is probably worn down from this whole pandemic experience......

  12. There are no words. Additional prayers today.

  13. Oh my goodness - through all that ordeal and your sense of humour kicks in for the relating the tale of utter poppycock that was dished out to you - I did want to write a rude word but poppycock seemed so much better and it looks a funny word. I wonder if they've moved the sign since then? On a brighter note, perhaps the queue is less and they forgot to move the sign closer?
    My day . . . well I guess you know all about it! xxx

  14. That's awful! I hope today is a better day xo

  15. Your writing style always gives me a lift. At least you could return to your damn good and your lovely outdoor room.

  16. I had my own version of your testing experience on Monday. I’m having knee replacement surgery on Friday and needed the test to qualify. The directions from the hospital said “go to the tent behind the Hospital.” I drive to the back of the hospital. No tent, no signs. I circled the block. No tent, no signs. Circle and repeat. (Cars behind me all the way as I drive at 10 mph.) On the fourth trip I spy a passing security guard and ask. “Oh,“ he says, “go up that driveway you just passed.” Oh, says I, the one marked Exit Only with a barrier? He answered affirmatively. I smile charmingly with gritted teeth And by now some twit is honking at me because I had the nerve to stop. Make the drive again and this time the guard has graciously moved the barrier. In the Exit Only I go, narrowly missing someone going out the Exit Only in the correct direction. Get my test and go home except by the time I get to the bottom of the Exit Only, I have to get out of my car and move the barrier again. I am praying the people doing my surgery are more competent or I may have a lower leg that faces the wrong way.