(With apologies to Harvey and Joyce Pekar)
Facebook reminded me that today is the one year anniversary of my first trip to the local Emergency Department to figure out what was wrong with me and my butt.
At the time, I really thought it was just hemorrhoids, maybe a fissure. At the time, the ED was packed with masked people waiting to be seem, some in a state of great pain covered in blankets and rolled into a corner to wait for a bed that was hours from becoming available. At the time, I thought my situation wasn’t worthy of keeping these people from their turn.
My wife and I stayed 12 hours in the waiting room before they took us back for a quick look-see up my bum. They didn’t see anything in their superficial exam. They didn’t go more than a fingertip deep. By the time I got back into an exam room, I hadn’t developed any new symptoms or demonstrated any of the things that brought me into the hospital in the first place. I was given the option to wait there for several more hours and check into a room for more examinations and tests or go home. If the symptoms returned, I was instructed to come back.
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