[Saturday, Jul. 04, 2009 | 11:52 am]
I honestly believed I had written about this years ago, but when I was looking for it just now in the archives, I couldn't find it. Advanced Google search brought up nothing.
Well, something related to what I was searching for happened last night. I'll write of both.
When my son was around three years old, his doctor wanted him evaluated for ADD, ADHD, autism, etc. He was to go to a large hospital in our capital city. The appointment came with rules, even. A list of things, such as: report an hour early in case of another's cancellation - the evaluator's time is very important, bring food and drinks in case of a long wait, bring something to occupy your child, call immediately if you are forced to change your appointment so that we can alter our schedule as soon as possible, etc. And we were given a map to this large hospital, as well as a map of how to get to the office inside.
It took well over an hour to get there, driving on multi-lane roads � four to six lanes per side. I hate those. Then we had to find a place to park. Another headache. Then we had to follow the page-sized, black-and-white map to the correct office.
Now, in these circumstances, you may say that the thought that entered my mind would be natural in a sarcastic sort of way, and I would agree and understand. But as we were rounding a corner, I suddenly knew that the receptionist wouldn't be able to find any information on us. It just came to me as a fact. There's a difference between thinking, "Whaddya wanna bet we're not on the list, after all the trouble we've been through to get here. Wouldn't that be something?", and having this "other voice" tell you that that is exactly what is about to happen.
I almost told my husband about it, but I didn't because this appointment was supposedly set in stone. After reading all the papers we were given regarding our appointment, I felt that if we simply didn't show, they'd have police track us down. (Not really, but you get the idea.) With all of their sternly-worded "rules," seriously, you'd expect punishment if you didn't or couldn't comply.
Anyway, we got to the receptionist. I sat down with our son while my husband went to check us in. Sure enough . . . they knew nothing. She was baffled at our papers. She was able to confirm they were legit � everything they gave people prior to their appointments was there and in order . . . but who-in-the-world were we? The evaluator we were to have seen took the day off after rescheduling her few appointments with someone else � and those reschedules didn't include us.
A man did "secretly" observe our son as we all sat in a waiting room with an obvious two-way mirror, and then he gave us his professional opinion based on his observations. Thankfully, we weren't charged for anything. He apologized for what had happened and asked how far we'd come. He completely understood that we wouldn't be making this trip a second time, no matter how many assurances they might want to give us about not having misplaced our appointment again. There was no way we were risking all our lives to drive there a second time. It wasn't worth it.
Now . . . last night.
My husband told me that he planned to cook one of my favorite foods next Saturday. The first thing I thought was, "Oh, that sucks. I'll be dead before next Saturday." I thought it weird. So I thought about it more, and, yes, I feel that I won't be alive by next Saturday. And it was such an easy, instant thought. Like, damn, I can't enjoy that food because I'll be dead. Very matter-of-fact thought. It had the same feeling of being "information" as the non-existent appointment did.
I have been having health issues lately. Scary, painless, but I suppose it is conceivable that I could literally drop dead from it. I feel I should making preparations. Now, let's see if I make it to next Saturday. . . .
Earth's Core = Hell?
Planning to Revisit Some Old Haunts
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