Eyeball Clinic 6 has very poor cell reception, so I’m standing in the hallway of the hospital like some kind of junkie in need of a fix.
We’re all checked in for mom’s surgery. The hospital is much less traumatic than the time we visited Miranda (the iPhone tried to replace my badly-typed “visited” with “fisted” – that was another post altogether) last year, probably because we’re not in a traditional hospital room. This is good. It is awkward to have panic attacks.
I drove us here in mom’s car because she didn’t want to ride on the back of Lola for some reason. I hate her car – it’s small and dirty and cramped and runs like shit. It does, however, have a handicap sign in the window – so I got to park in the reserved zone and I feel all fancy. Yes, I am easily amused and also somewhat lazy.
There are a lot of old people in this waiting room.