Ouch

And I thought yesterday was a disorganized disaster – today trumped that in spades then ran the table (ok, mixing metaphors here, but you get the idea). And, as attempt to write this for the third time, the fun has simply not ended. Safest if I take my shivering self to bed.

Let me explain: today was supposed to be a pair of quick check-ups at the VA. And this is the Med Center on the far end of San Francisco – yes Virginia, you can practically toss a stone in the Pacific from the back picnic tables – the only way I would be driving any further would involve a trip to Travis AFB or the Sacramento VA. Those 21 miles seem to take forever and involve city streets, stoplights, stop signs, interstate freeways, the Bay Bridge and a circuitous route through SF itself.

Anyway. First up – I failed to set an alarm so woke up 20 minutes late. The only positive thing I can say about starting late was that Peet’s had just opened so there might be coffee – at least if there wasn’t a line of 10 people. At 0530 in the morning?  It took 20 minutes to get my coffee and I was starting to get even more panicky. Obviously, I am not someone who takes being late well at all.

So there I go, Down Vine street, left on MLK, right on University heading toward the Interstate. But wait, something feels wrong when I start driving. A slub-dup that has just started. I pull over and check. Left rear tire is now flat. ARGH! A block further on the left, there is a filling station with parking spaces. Carefully crawling the car across two lanes and turning left, I ease the car into a side space. The absolutely wonderful man working in the station says it is fine to park the car for a couple of hours if someone is going to be coming to get it as he agrees that driving on a flat tire is stupid.

I call and wake George up and leave him with the challenge of calling AAA and getting the tire changed. I would do it if I had time, it wasn’t dark, and I wasn’t freezing cold. All of them together? Nuts – that is why we pay for AAA right?

I call a Lyft as there is no way I can make it on public transport in the time I have left. 10 minutes later, my driver pulls up. She quietly, efficiently, and without the use of GPS takes me to the VA by the same route I would use, Through screening and up to the waiting room.

I have my dental appointment, followed by my next appointment. I am fine, but since on the last checkup I had zero antibodies against COVID in-spite of 2 immunizations and an augmentation dose, my doc thinks a booster is in order, Otherwise, back in 3 months. Over to the immunization clinic. They inform me I am 8 days too early for a dose. Back to my doc. He puts the requirement for the early dose in my record. Back to the immunization clinic where they do the whole information and consent thing before sticking me.

Finally back home, I find that George came to the gas station (in Dani’s car) saw to the tire change. Drove it to the tire place. Walked back (3 km) and drove home. This was after getting Dani to work and Alex out to the new place to oversee the upgrade on the back yard fence.

It is now almost 2200. It is cold upstairs, at least that is what I am blaming for my chills and tremors. Couldn’t possibly be the vaccine now could it? The day has sucked. If the past is any indication, I may well spend tomorrow feeling sorry for myself.

Just glad I didn’t sign up to work any clinics for the rest of the week.

(not spell checked or edited – sorry about that…….

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About Holly

fiber person - knitter, spinner, weaver who spent 33 years being a military officer to fund the above. And home. And family. Sewing and quilting projects are also in the stash. After living again in Heidelberg after retiring (finally) from the U.S. Army May 2011, we moved to the US ~ Dec 2015. Something about being over 65 and access to health care. It also might have had to do with finding a buyer for our house. Allegedly this will provide me a home base in the same country as our four adult children, all of whom I adore, so that I can drive them totally insane. Considerations of time to knit down the stash…(right, and if you believe that…) and spin and .... There is now actually enough time to do a bit of consulting, editing. Even more amazing - we have only one household again. As long as everyone understands that I still, 40 years into our marriage, don't do kitchens or bathrooms. For that matter, not being a golden retriever, I don't do slippers or newspapers either. I don’t miss either the military or full-time clinical practice. Limiting my public health/travel med/consulting and lecturing to “when I feel like it” has let me happily spend my pension cruising, stash enhancing (oops), arguing with the DH about where we are going to travel next and book buying. Life is good!
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