Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Sunday, October 9, 2011
1.01
Emma was crying terribly, so you hadn't heard the phone for several rings. She had fallen down or hit her face or something, it wasn't really clear exactly, but there was blood and a lot of crying but it probably wasn't serious.
You considered just letting the call go to voicemail, but you didnt recognize the number, and those are the hardest calls to ignore. You spoke as you tried to comfort your daughter, washing the blood from her face with a cool dishtowel,
"Mr. Woodcock, I am terribly sorry to bother you with this, I'm calling from Dr. Sali's office, and there was a mix up with your bloodwork"
Immediately you were concerned, but you quickly recalled that you hadn't had any bloodwork performed recently, let alone even seen your doctor.
The secretary or nurse or whatever continued: "when we reported the results of your physical back in june we inadvertently mixed up your file with that of another patient. We only just discovered the error, and want to talk to you about your actual results, there were some... Minor concerns. Dr. Sali would like to schedule an appointment with you and run a few simple tests, these will be performed free of charge, as our apology for the mix up. The doctor would like to see you right away, this afternoon if at all possible. "
You make the appointment, giving yourself a few hours to shower and find a last min sitter for Emma. Oh, Emma, her crying mostly subsided, softly whimpering now about a man in the tree outside. She has a history of manufacturing frightening imaginary friends, a man in a tree is honestly not the worst she's ever described, but it seems to have upset her terribly, hopefully her mother will have a better handle on this, when she gets home tonight.
As the fear of what Dr. Sali could NEED to test you for begins to set in (cancer? Diabetes?) you hear a shuffle (advanced heart disease? Lupus?) from the front door (early onset Alzheimer's? Cholera? What exactly is Cholera? Is that a thing you can just get?) . You look to the granite kitchen island casually notice the pile of the days mail that you took in not an hour ago and still haven't looked through. The last thing you need right now is a goddamned jehova's or an encounter with one of your idiot neighbors.
Opening the blond oak door with oval frosted glass window inset, you discover whoever had been present has vanished and left behind a large manilla envelope. With your free arm -and great difficulty, as you are ca drying Emma in the other- you bend down and pick up the parcel.
Cutting it open with the laughably small Swiss army knife you received from an office secret santa a few years ago, before you "retired," the one you carry with you on your keys and have so rarely had a need for, you find a VHS cassette. In smeary silver ink someone has written "play me."
But you don't have a VCR.
You considered just letting the call go to voicemail, but you didnt recognize the number, and those are the hardest calls to ignore. You spoke as you tried to comfort your daughter, washing the blood from her face with a cool dishtowel,
"Mr. Woodcock, I am terribly sorry to bother you with this, I'm calling from Dr. Sali's office, and there was a mix up with your bloodwork"
Immediately you were concerned, but you quickly recalled that you hadn't had any bloodwork performed recently, let alone even seen your doctor.
The secretary or nurse or whatever continued: "when we reported the results of your physical back in june we inadvertently mixed up your file with that of another patient. We only just discovered the error, and want to talk to you about your actual results, there were some... Minor concerns. Dr. Sali would like to schedule an appointment with you and run a few simple tests, these will be performed free of charge, as our apology for the mix up. The doctor would like to see you right away, this afternoon if at all possible. "
You make the appointment, giving yourself a few hours to shower and find a last min sitter for Emma. Oh, Emma, her crying mostly subsided, softly whimpering now about a man in the tree outside. She has a history of manufacturing frightening imaginary friends, a man in a tree is honestly not the worst she's ever described, but it seems to have upset her terribly, hopefully her mother will have a better handle on this, when she gets home tonight.
As the fear of what Dr. Sali could NEED to test you for begins to set in (cancer? Diabetes?) you hear a shuffle (advanced heart disease? Lupus?) from the front door (early onset Alzheimer's? Cholera? What exactly is Cholera? Is that a thing you can just get?) . You look to the granite kitchen island casually notice the pile of the days mail that you took in not an hour ago and still haven't looked through. The last thing you need right now is a goddamned jehova's or an encounter with one of your idiot neighbors.
Opening the blond oak door with oval frosted glass window inset, you discover whoever had been present has vanished and left behind a large manilla envelope. With your free arm -and great difficulty, as you are ca drying Emma in the other- you bend down and pick up the parcel.
Cutting it open with the laughably small Swiss army knife you received from an office secret santa a few years ago, before you "retired," the one you carry with you on your keys and have so rarely had a need for, you find a VHS cassette. In smeary silver ink someone has written "play me."
But you don't have a VCR.
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