Filed under: — lana @ 1:27 pm

Last time I spoke to the doctor, before the holidays, I asked him when I should expect to come back in to sign my packet so I can really get the medical board process underway. He said given the holidays, don’t expect anything until the first or second week of January, don’t call us we’ll call you.

So at the end of last week I called anyway to make sure I would be able to find a few hours of time to get up there in the near future, as my work schedule is filling up rapidly. I was told the following:

Your packet is sitting on the desk of some officer somewhere in the hospital. It is awaiting his signature, where it has been for about the past week and a half. He should sign it today. Or next week.

Then we get it back. No, no, you don’t get to sign it then. Then we have to bring it to the desk of another officer somewhere else in the hospital where it can ferment, collect dust, and finally get buried under a huge stack of other work. When he unearths it sometime hopefully prior to the apocolypse he will sign it. Then someone has to bring it back to us again. Please remember the hospital is shutting down and therefore is short-staffed, so that may take a bit as well.

Then we will call you and you can come up here to read it and make any changes, though keep in mind any changes are going to necessitate more signatures. Then once you finally approve it and sign it we will make our way to the post office and ship it back to the States, regular mail, and hope it doesn’t get lost en route. Then it makes its way to the board, they finally get around to reviewing it, and we sit and hope that they don’t have questions because if they do it means we get to start all over again. Once they have no further questions they sign it and either you get out or you get to stay in and be miserable, unless you appeal, in which case you start all over again anyway.

Expect to be complete with the process sometime prior to your 83rd birthday.

Have a good day.

So since that obviously isn’t getting me very far, to kill time I went to Paris for the day. I haven’t been to Paris since 1994, but I found it hasn’t changed. It is still gray, still dirty, and the only way to get someone to speak to you in English is to speak to them and continue to hold your side of the conversation in French. Given that my French is so poor from disuse that I would struggle to hold my own in a conversation with a first-grader but I was the only one of any of my traveling companions who spoke any French at all, it was an interesting trip.

After walking around the city all day, my foot was the size of a small melon. One would think that might be fodder for the medical packet, but I don’t want to have to extend this process until my 97th birthday instead…

1 Comment »

  1. Hmm. A couple of comments.

    First, if I were you, I’d stay away from the apocalypse. With four horsemen, the chances are extremely good that one of the horses would step on your foot.

    Second, you say your foot was the size of a small melon. WHAT KIND? I mean, Casaba? Honeydew? Cantaloupe? Enquiring minds want to know.

    Good luck surviving military medicine…

    Comment by Dad — 1/15/2007 @ 4:12 pm

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