A Drop in the Can

I guess when the doctor told me I was going to have to get blood work and urinalysis at LabCorp, I expected a freestanding scientific building filled with people in lab coats whose only concern was my health and well-being--a place where doctors sent their patients to get the best care, something like a secret James Bond criminal complex, but for medical processing. Instead, the corporation aspect of the whole thing was more of a franchise crammed in a corporate complex where they huddle everyone in a waiting room and hire the absolute minimum in "quality" healthcare workers to take blood and be otherwise completely inept.

I don't know much about customer service, but I know a few things. First, when you call someone up to the window and get their insurance and information, you don't just hand the card back with no direction, you give a "Thank you, please have a seat until your name is called," or a "Pease step through the door to the first door on the right" or something like that. Instead, they just hand your card back and you stand there like an idiot. I assumed they were ready for me and went through the doors, but they rudely chased me back out, and I saw a few people stand around like small children with the goldfish look on their faces until they were curtly told to have a seat instead of being instructed politely when they got their insurance cards back, but that would have been too easy.

When I was finally called back, the secretary/medical assistant handed me a cup and directed me to the bathroom to get my urine sample, but she didn't tell me where to go when I was finished. I didn't really have to go at the time, but I made it happen: I drank a gallon of water from the sink and found my Zen. Afterward, confused and with my sample, I had to walk to a completely new woman and ask her blindly what to do now that I was holding a cup of piss. That's when the secretary instructed me to go back out into waiting room in front of everyone with my cup of piss. Now, I'm not that bashful, but I was a little self-conscious carrying my pee cup into a room full of strangers. Not only did she make me carry my urine out front, but also decided that this was a good time to inform me that my doctor, unbeknownst to me, had ordered a stool sample, and once again, in front of everyone, talked at length for all to hear about how I was going to have to take a dump in a orange and clear bag with a biohazzard logo, which she handed to me in public and proceeded to inform me that they were out of shit testers, so I would have to call back later in the week so I could come back in another day after dropping a dugan in the bag.

Once again, I was completely surprised and perplexed. First, I had no idea that I had to give a stool sample for a simple check up visit, and secondly, again, she gave me no details other than that they were out of dooker tests. What is the best method of getting the terd in the bag? Do I pinch one off directly in the bag, or plop elsewhere and transfer? Exactly how much of my feces do they need? Could have been useful information. My thinking is this: if you don't tell me, I'm going to make sure you get enough, because I'm sure as hell not going to come back if it's not sufficient.

Finally, she sent me back to get my blood test, but vaguely said go to the first open room. There was an empty room and one with a nursish type person in it--what did she mean by open? So I asked, and I was met with disdain by the troll of a medical technician who told me to come into her room: she then proceeded to apologize for the temperature in the room because she had the window open--someone either puked or passed out, and I did hear a wailing cry when I was in the bathroom trying to concentrate, which also jived with Lib's story of a grown woman walking out crying with her mother. The nurse wannabe took my blood, making every effort to not make eye contact with me while exuding utter and complete misery and loathing . The only thing she did right was take my blood. When she was finished she just said, "OK." Once again I had to ask if that meant I could go, or if I had to check in somewhere, and once again I was met with bitchiness, so I left.

I can't wait to go back carrying my bag and its precious cargo just to drop it with a resounding thud on the reception desk for the wonderful girls of LabCorp (in front of a bunch of strangers).