Time is (Decidedly NOT) On My Hands

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There's real time. We all abide by it, right? You're supposed to be somewhere at 6:30 and you show up at 6:30. Well, most of us do anyway. If you're my father-in-law, then you show up at 6:10, which is completely annoying. (But I'm not going there and I'm not bitter!) I'm fully aware that I operate on "Reas time" which puts me at least a quarter of an hour behind everyone else. That's if I'm running on time.

So we have real time.

And we have Reas' Wacky Father-In-Law time. I would like to point out that if any other people out there operate in this time zone, there are professionals standing by, willing and able to help. You don't have to live this way.

And we have Reas Time. Clearly, the BEST time....

And then there's Hospital Time.

I'm not sure what exactly happens when people enter hospital, but I think you'll all agree that some sort of black hole exists in each and every one of those institutions of healing and despair. Nothing ever happens quickly in a hospital. No, the time vortex that's silently lurking at each and every entrance sucks everyone in and spits things out at an agonizingly glacial pace. If I didn't know any better, I would swear Douglas Adams was channeling his spirit. But how could he possibly manage to be in so many places at once, even in the spirit world? No, this phenomenon, my friends, means something much more sinister is in play.

Allow me, if you will, to translate from "real time" to "hospital time" some typical fair. Bear in mind this is AFTER a person crosses the magical threshold from the waiting room to the actual place where healing occurs. The waiting room is completely off my radar because, you know, it's all about me:

* The doctor says he's going to do something "right now". You can generally expect to wait around seven or eight minutes.

* A nurse tells you it's going to be a "few minutes". Really, you've got at least twenty on your hands.

* The labs aren't back, but they should be back in "no time." Right. Solid half hour here.

* They'll get those labs faxed "right away." (snicker) 35 minutes if all goes well. Forget it if the copier is acting up, as they are wont to do. Regularly.

* CT is doing some scans and should "be back soon". Soon = forty minutes.

* The family went to get something to eat. Easily 45 minutes on this one.

* All decisions are made and the patient is ready to go. The nurse says she'll discharge said patient. This takes a good thirty minutes in the emergency room. On the floor? Please.

* The operator from the other mental health hospital will "put the call through." Get comfortable, as it takes at least an hour to receive a call back. I think I've won the lottery if I get a call back any time before that.

* Shift change is happening and a nurse will get "right back with you". Yeah. Again, sixty minutes.

* The police are "on the way" for your emergency detention transport. Pitch a tent and grab your marshmallows when you hear this. You've got at least two hours in front of you.

* The social worker gets the call and says she's "on it." You may never hear from her again. ->