Tag Archives: appointments

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Doctor!  Doctor!

This growing old shit is not for the faint of heart.  Even just Stayin’ Alive can become a full-time job.  I recently read a post from a young woman who complained that she had two doctors’ appointments in one day – and then she went for a workout at the gym.  It is possible, but not likely, that they were both with the same doctor.

Damned amateur!!  For those whose idea of excitement is perusing a long list of medical appointments and whines – Read on Mac Duff!

MONDAY – The worst
I took the wife to see her GP.  I insist on using that term.  Clinics and medical labs use the term ‘Family doctor.’  She has one.  The son and I have another.  They both treat “Families,” just not this family.  This visit was not medical.  It was administrative.
The polyp in her duodenum that was removed two years ago, has regrown.  We hadn’t heard anything from the specialist in Toronto who was going to operate, until we got a Sayonara Suckers email from him, telling us that he’s moving to Vancouver to practice.  Since it’s been precisely located and identified, the less-than-specialist in Cambridge feels that he can handle it.  We await an appointment.

Her dentist found a lesion on one side of the wife’s tongue.  A local Oral Surgeon snipped out enough for three stitches, and a biopsy.  It might have been Hyperkeratosis, a callus-like thickening of tissue.  (Insert shrewish housewife joke here.)  It was Dysplasia, a modification of cells that isn’t, but could become, cancer.
We were sent 75 miles to an Oro/Fascia/Maxillary Surgeon.  He felt that it extended too far back into the throat and ligament, and suggested an ENT.  The GP referred the wife to a local one who is probably the best in the Province.  We hadn’t got an appointment, so we asked the doctor to check.  The computer file showed that the ENT had declined, because his wait-list is 4 years.  He suggested 3 or 4 other names.  The GP wanted to know, if she couldn’t contact a local one, would we be willing to travel 75 miles east again, to Hamilton, or 75 miles West, to London.  As long as somebody does something, soon.

TUESDAY
We both had an appointment with our new Osteopath, because our last one decided to practice from her home, 20 miles away.

WEDNESDAY

We both had appointments with our Optometrist.  They already had to be delayed and rescheduled three weeks later.  The wife had her lenses with cataracts removed, and new, plastic lenses inserted about six months ago.  An emergency visit later showed that, as often happens, not all the organic matter was flushed out of the sacs, and it combined and grew like ivy, clouding her vision.  Only last week, she spent a half a day at the hospital, having it burned out with a laser.  Both her sight and mine are better than they were a year ago.

THURSDAY

Both the wife and daughter put their best foot forward, and I took them to their Podiatrist.

FRIDAY

It was the car’s turn for a service visit at the dealer.  The son dropped it off at 8:00 AM after work, and was Uber-ed home.  It was both his, and the driver’s, first Uber trip.  I was Uber-ed back to pick it up in the afternoon.  I have ridden in a few electric cars, although not a Tesla, yet.  Even including Toronto taxis, this was my first ride with a dash cam – front-facing, cabin and audio.

The week was so busy that neither of us had time for a workout at the gym.   😳

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Fibbing Friday #262

Last week’s words from Pensitivty101, were put forward by Susan of The Abject Muse.  Thanks Susan!
Your definitions please!

These are all Syns Of The Fathers.  Apparently, Mothers never Syn.

1. Synergy

Wasn’t this that ‘Too Big To Fail’ gas and oil company that went down like the Titanic in 2001??!

2. Synonym

This is the name of the local Friendly Girl.  Often found on washroom partitions, under For A Good Time Call XXX-XXXX.

3. Synchronicity

I have finally learned how to be exactly as late as my doctor.  On my initial visit, he had me arrive at 6:30 AM to fill out forms, for a 7:00 o’clock appointment.  He wandered in at 7:05, disappeared, perhaps for a coffee, and at last saw me at 7:20.  😮

4. Syncopate

This is when the wife and I completely agree on any given subject.  It happens once 0.732 in a blue moon.

5. Synopsis

My parents had to keep a close eye on my female sibling.  Her Purity Pledge ring was beginning to show serious corrosion.

6. Synaesthesia

This is AI-produced, artificial pleasure and enjoyment.  It won’t be long before we shed our bodies, and live inside computer simulations.  We will voluntarily let The Matrix win.

7. Synaptosome

This is what Donald Trump, et al, lack.  A doctor examined The Donald, and declared him sane and fit to be President.  Now, I want the doctor examined, to see if he is sane, and fit to practice medicine – although I have some sympathy for him.  If he had given any other ruling, he might have been run over by a car…. in his living room, or fallen to his death from a ground-floor window.

8. Synanthropes

These are cynical ‘Good Christians’ who are loudly judgmental of other people’s failings, but sow their own wild oats from Monday to Saturday, and then go to church on Sunday, to pray for crop failure.

9. Synagogal

It is no wonder that the best lawyers are Jewish.  They’ve spent 5000 years arguing and negotiating with God.

10 Synaptid

That’s the sound of me opening my first cold one of the day.  Yum, yum, Waterloo Dark Lager, almost as good as Newcastle Brown Ale.

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Well Worth 10 Days Of Medical Hell

TDLR

I did not take my doctor’s advice on how to sneak into the little, local cardiac hospital through the emergency department.

I SHOULD HAVE!

Instead, I patiently waited for the cardiac clinic – and waited- and waited!  Days flowed into weeks. Weeks turned into months.

After three months and a week, I drove to the clinic on a Friday and raised a small amount of hell. I told the receptionist that I was busy dying out here and would appreciate if someone would do something.

On the Monday morning, I got a call from my newly adoptive doctor’s assistant.  I would need to start with an EKG. Someone had cancelled; did I wish to take their appointment that afternoon?

Damned Right!

I must have piqued some interest. That Friday, I got a call asking me to come back in, next Wednesday for an Echocardiogram. The next day I got called to (finally) come back for my stress test and evaluation.

The test is to walk on a continuously inclining treadmill, in three-minute segments. I didn’t last the first TWO minutes. I got home to an email scheduling me for an Angiogram at the hospital in four weeks. The fire has been lit, but the days still stretch.

Two weeks later, I got a phone call on a Wednesday. Someone had cancelled an Angiogram on Friday. Scared the hell out of me! Same guy as the EKG? Did he die? Did I want to take it?

HELL YES!

Ordinarily, they would mail out a requisition for an independent clinic to perform blood tests, urine sample, heart X-ray, blood pressure and an all-out tree’s worth of questionnaires and other assorted paperwork. With no lead time, those would be done in the hospital, after the test.

I arrived at the hospital Friday at noon, to register. I was escorted to surgery prep, stripped, given a backless gown, a hair net, and paper booties. ID was checked and an IV shunt put in the back of my left hand.  About 1:30 I was told to take me and my pal the IV pole down the hall to the washroom, have a final pee, and sit on a chair outside the operating room.

A nurse escorted me in, up onto the table, and inserted an anesthetic line, while the surgeon readied my right arm.  I asked her how long the procedure would take.  If it’s simple and easy – 20 minutes.  If there are problems – 45 minutes.  The doctor nodded to her, and…. she tapped my leg and said that they were putting me on a gurney to recovery.  RECOVERY??!  I looked up at the clock, and wondered where the Hell three quarters of an hour went.  Not a good sign!

When all the procedures were completed, the experts examined and discussed them.  I was later given the copy of my test, above.  It shows four feeder arteries, all clogged, from 76%, to 98%, and blocked both at the top, as well as the delivery end.  My surgeon only had to install four large pieces of vein, but, technically, I got an octuple bypass.  Most hearts only have three feed vessels.  Mine had spontaneously formed a new one to take up the slack.  That was the one that was only 76% blocked.

The doctor most capable of installing stents, took one look, and said, “Too big!  Too Complicated.”  I needed to be kept under medical observation, and had to wait until the next day to shed my anesthetics, so that I could make a (reasonably) intelligent, informed decision.

It came down to either a 15% chance of dying from heart failure within ten years, or allowing some guy to open my chest with a miniature chain saw, stop my heart for a while, so that I was legally dead, attach me to a heart/lung machine, and install new plumbing.   The choice was unenviable, but inevitable.

After getting someone else’s EKG appointment, and someone else’s angiogram appointment, the surgeon I urgently needed, had a Monday afternoon open.  Tough as nails, by 6 PM, the family was informed that I had come through well.  A night in Emergency observation – three days in Cardiac ICU, because there were no free beds in the recovery ward – slowly, I recovered.

Finally, a week after registering, I was told that I would go home on Monday.  On Sunday, a lady doctor told me that she was going to take the wires out of my chest.  I thought that she meant wires holding my sternum together, but she gently withdrew two thread-fine neuro-electronic leads still embedded in my heart and protruding from my chest, that had been attached to the external pacemaker which restarted and controlled my heart.

A nurse/trainee removed the first 25 alternate of 50 tiny surgical staples holding the vein-graft site on the inside of my right calf, as well as 18 of the 36 staples on my chest.  Monday morning, a nurse-supervisor removed two non-dissolving sutures that closed two chest drainage holes.  The same trainee removed the last 43 staples, peeled off the EKG tabs that had been glued to me for a week, and removed the Just In Case IV shunt.  The son went to get the car.  An orderly wheel-chaired me to the front entrance, and I was finally on my way to home and freedom.

The hospital likes to release cardiac patients at the same weight they were when they arrived.  I arrived at least 20 pounds overweight.  Over 10 days, I lost 20 pounds.  I could wish that more disappeared from my tubby tummy, than from muscle and other tissue, but it makes it easier on my rebuilt engine.  It is not a weight-loss program that I would recommend, but the entire experience was well worthwhile.

Many Americans denigrate Canada, and our socialized medicine system.  It’s hard to estimate, but I’d guess that I was the recipient of $500,000 to $1,000,000 of time, talent, training, specialized equipment and supplies – and ten more years of decent life only cost me an outrageous $100 for parking.  If there are any other gory details you’d like to know, feel free to ask.

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Anarchy Inc. – Battling Bureaucracy: Episode VII

I’m licensed to drive for another two years.  You’ve been warned!  Lay in your supply of Xanax.

I passed my 80-year-old retesting examination.  My fears have been allayed.  It was even easier than I hoped, but there were the inevitable Government administration SNAFUs.  I received a form from the DMV, with a covering letter.  It said that I was required to watch a short, online movie.  I thought that it might be instructional, but it was just a little rah-rah piece about keeping our highways safe.  No-one ever asked me to prove that I’d viewed it.  I guess it’s assumed that local Mennonites who drive cars, must also have internet access.

The cover letter said that I could book my appointment online, or with a toll-free number, which I chose, and talked to a real, live, refugee who could barely speak English.  The Government form had all my information – name, address, phone number and license number – and a blank line at the bottom where I was instructed to write in day, date, and time.  I was given a 1:00 PM slot, which I dutifully wrote in, and the wife entered it in her cell-phone calendar.

On the day, we arrived at 12:50.  There was a sign saying that there was no receptionist, have a seat and wait, and I would be called.  There were seven people in the waiting area, adult children waiting for mothers and fathers.  There was a group in the examination room.  Conversation revealed that they had a 12:30 appointment time.

One o’clock came – 1:05 – finally, the examiner lady began releasing them one at a time, every few minutes.  After the third or fourth, the wife asked when I would be taken in for my 1:00 o’clock time slot.  “Oh, all the one o’clock people are already in there.”  Obviously not!!  “Well, I’ll finish with this group, and take you in alone.”  Apparently, the session was scheduled for 12:30, but a few of us, both online, and with a live clerk, were told 1 PM.  Those Oners who arrived early enough, were taken shortly after 12:30

The letter said to present my plastic, credit card license, and the mailed form.  I handed them both to her.  She was surprised with the license.  Apparently, I was the only one who had it handy.  She had to ask each of the others, and wait till they dug it out.  She swiped it through a reader on her computer, and handed me the paper form back.  “All your data is on here.  I don’t use that.”

She had me look into a VR headset kind of thing.  At the bottom there were seven numbers.  I quickly read off the first five.  With the divot in my right eye, I wasn’t sure of the last two.  I pulled my head back slightly, and turned it, so that the left eye could confirm – the same ‘averaging’ system I use in real life.  Then she activated some peripheral-vision lights on each side – nowhere near as complex as the ‘range of vision’ tests I have to do at my eye doctor’s.

Then it was on to art class.  I was given a sheet of paper, a pencil, and told to draw a clock – round(ish) circle, dot in the center, 12 numbers in their proper places, and hands set at 11:10.  She gave me five minutes to complete it.  A bit shaky, but I was done in less than one.  The entire test only took five minutes.  Now I just have to look forward to repeating it every two years.  Look out, Captain America!  Here we come.

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’24 A To Z Challenge – G

No matter where you go – There you are!

I’d have published this post earlier, but my Procrastinators Anonymous meeting started late.  😮

Johnny Cash sang, I’ve Been Everywhere.  I/we never had the time or money to be everywhere, but I’ve been to a number of interesting places.  Before I retired, I went with my brother, and swam in the ocean at Tampa, Key West, and Daytona Beach.  I took the wife, and swam at Myrtle Beach, and Charleston.  I told a Canadian Snowbird that I’d visited Myrtle Beach, and he asked me if I was into golf or tattoos.  Every third store on the main drag sells either golf equipment, tattoos, or printed tee-shirts – often about either golf or tattoos.

I’ve said that I had to retire, just to have the time to drive the wife and I, and daughter, to all our medical appointments.  Take last week – Please!  Monday I went to the hospital for a bone density scan.  Tuesday, the wife and I went to our Osteopath.  Wednesday was only a trip to a big mall, so that the wife could purchase a newer, better, smarter, more powerful, cell phone.  She had it for three days before she lost it!  😦  We got it back, but I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on her.

Thursday, I took the daughter and wife to their podiatrist.  Friday I drove the daughter and her little dog 15 miles to our veterinarian.  On Saturday, we went to a local German Club to celebrate the wife’s brother’s 80th birthday – a reminder that mine is looming on the horizon.  Sunday was a trip to the downtown park to get Ethiopian food at the Multicultural Festival.

This ‘getting old’ is not for the faint of heart.  I have learned to

GALLIVANT

  1. to wander about, seeking pleasure or diversion; gad.
  2. to go about frivolously and publicly with multiple romantic partners.

This week looks to be just as busy.   We have a chiropractor appointment.  I get a quiet afternoon while the wife gallivants for coffee with her ex-co-worker girlfriend.  We take the daughter with us for our monthly Costco restocking jaunt, and the wife and I hit several stores, including a pet store, for things Costco doesn’t carry.

Next week includes a trip back to a Toronto hospital for a final checkup on the wife’s last year’s abdominal surgery.  The first time, I made the mistake of driving.  We quickly got smart, and subsequent trips were by commuter train.  Easy-Peasy!  A 90-minute train ride to Union Station, and a 5 minute cab ride to the hospital.

On our second trip, we got back to the rail depot, carefully read the electronic schedule, and got on a train listed to go home to “Kitchener.”  Fifteen miles in the wrong direction, a comment made the conductor inform us that we were on the wrong train, despite what the schedule had said.  It wasn’t just us.  Another rider insisted that he too wanted to get to Kitchener, and a third said that he’d seen the same thing occur the week before.  Travelling without purpose – this is where the Gallivanting kicks in.

I’m still hoping to work in a trip to the metro-Toronto IKEA store for an exciting tour of their food court, but we’ve been so busy, we haven’t even had time to do a McDonalds drive-thru.  How about you??  Have you been able to gallivant??  😕

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He’s Come Undun

I’m coming unravelled, although I was never too tightly wrapped in the first place. 

A man encounters another fellow at a DC cocktail party.  “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a naval surgeon.”
“Wow, you guys really specialize, don’t you??!

My Father’s family kindly passed down a gene which causes weak abdominal wall.  Excess weight is not the only reason that my tummy protrudes.  At 2019’s annual doctor visit, I had two small hernias, one in the left groin, and one on my navel.  The groin one was quick and easy to fix – day-surgery at the hospital – someone jabbed a hole in it with a sharp pencil, poked some window-screen in, under the skin, and super-glued me back together.

The belly-button is a little more complex.  They don’t like to work on it unless absolutely necessary.  She told me to keep an eye on it, and report if it increased in size.  After the fiasco of last year’s visit, which I chronicled in I Have Never Felt So Alive, I let her have another look.  Last year, it was the size of the last segment of my baby finger.  This year, it’s as big as the end of my thumb!  😯

They will not act unless the opening is more than 2.5 cm (1 real inch).  She gave me a requisition for an ultrasound scan just as COVID19 arrived.  It took me three months to schedule a clinic appointment.  I find that I am six months pregnant with twins.  😉

She has, properly, been chastising me about my weight.  Something like this has finally opened my eyes.  I don’t want to explode like that obese wight in the Monty Python sketch.  I asked about liposuction, to relieve the immediate pressure.  She refused, because, without a basic change in my lifestyle, the weight would just pack back on.

A maintenance man at a plant where I worked, took more than a year to lose over a hundred pounds.  Then he spent another year, gradually putting it all back on.  😦  Slowly we forge the chains of our obesity so, slowly we must cast them off.  In the three months that I waited for the scan, I managed to lose 15 pounds, with lots more to go. 

No more snacking from boredom, as I stay up all night.  It’s as simple – and as complex – as that.  I was appalled at the number and variety of goodies I had available – regular chips, salt and vinegar chips, corn chips, cheese twists, mini chocolate bars…. Three kinds of peanuts, one Honey-Roasted, one Caramel-Coated, for extra calories – and cut back on the sugar-laden soft drinks.

No more 4 or 5 snacks per night!!  Now I must choose – and limit myself to – one snack per evening.  Carefully rationed, I have eliminated several of them, and vowed not to replace them.

COVID19 further delayed already slow medical specialists’ appointments.  Something must have shown in the ultrasound.  On August 1, I received an email appointment notice with a Surgical Oncologist, on Oct 22 – Wow, only another three months!  I only hope that he can ‘knit up the ravelled sleave of my care,’ before I come completely Undun.  Click here, if you’d like to hear the Canadian band The Guess Who, tell you about a girl that it happened to.

I’ll tell you what transpires.  (EW! EW!)  I’ll still be as big an opinionated asshole as ever.  It’s just that, hopefully, there’ll be a lot less of me doing it.

***

So, my Oct. 22 appointment has come and gone.  The specialist took one quick look at it and told me to get out.  At least I now have a direct line to him if it grows any larger. I told him that my weight loss was up to 20 pounds, but he only speaks Metric (9 Kg.)  Very good….keep at it.  It can be caused be something as simple as a sneeze.  With my allergies – do you know how many times I sneeze per day – and how strongly??!

I picked up some meds after the doctor visit.  The pharmacy tech asked me how the visit went.  I told her the doctor was busy, and had just put a strip of Scotch Tape© over it – and got out while she was still reaching for the phone.  If the wife doesn’t have me committed, she might.   😉   😳

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Flash Fiction #218

ICU

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

ICU

Millie finally got to see her Ophthalmologist. She looked blurry – everything did, but the doctor said that removing some cataracts would improve her sight.

On the back of her follow-up appointment card, it said, “How did we do today? Go to our web-site and complete the survey. You could win a free liposuction.”

Health Care System?? Sure! It works great if you’re a guy. Need hair replacement? Need penis enlargement? That we can do immediately. Does your wife need new eyes? That could take a while.

She figured they’d patent a cure for death about a week after her funeral.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Friday Fictioneers

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Abstinence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

confession-box

Three couples are trying to get married at the same church. There is a young couple, a middle-aged couple, and an elderly couple. The three couples meet with the priest and discuss when they can get married. ”If you wish to get married in my church, you must all go one month without having sex,” says the priest.

One month later the three couples return to the church and talk to the priest. He then asks the elderly couple, “Have you completed the month with sex?” ”Yes we have, it was easy,” replies the elderly couple.”

”How about you?” He asks the middle-aged couple. ”It was hard, but we didn’t have sex for the whole month,” they respond.

”And how about you two?” He asks the young couple.  ”No, we couldn’t do it,” responds the boyfriend.  ”Tell me why,” says the priest. ”Well my girlfriend had a can of corn in her hand and she accidentally dropped it. She bent over to pick it up and that’s when it happened. ”The priest then tells them, “You’re not welcome in my church.” ”We’re not welcome in the supermarket either.” says the boyfriend.

***

LITTLE SHEET HEADS

Two Syrian refugees compete to see who can become the most ‘American’ in three weeks.  After three weeks the Syrians meet again at a McDonalds. The first Syrian makes his case for him being more American by saying: “Every day I have taken my son to softball practice and my daughter to ballet. I just purchased my first car and it is a Chevy El Camino. I’ve recently started listening to Toby Keith and Lynyrd Skynyrd and my favorite football team is the Dallas Cowboys. Beat that!” The other Syrian simply replies with: “Get out of my country, you fucking towelhead.”

***

Yesterday I had an appointment to see the urologist for a prostate exam. Of course I was a bit on edge because all my friends have either gone under the knife or had those pellets implanted

The waiting room was filled with patients.

As I approached the receptionist’s desk, I noticed that she was a large unfriendly woman who looked like a Sumo wrestler.

I gave her my name, and in a very loud voice, she said, 

“YES, I HAVE YOUR NAME HERE. YOU WANT TO SEE THE DOCTOR ABOUT IMPOTENCE, RIGHT?

All the patients in the waiting room snapped their heads around to look at me, a now very embarrassed man. But as usual, I recovered quickly, and in an equally loud voice replied,

“NO, I’VE COME TO INQUIRE ABOUT A SEX CHANGE OPERATION, BUT I DON’T WANT THE SAME DOCTOR THAT DID YOURS.”

The room erupted in applause!

***

For all the ladies who have to drive alone….

“I had a flat tire on the highway yesterday; so, I pulled over, got out of the car and opened my trunk.

I took out my cardboard men, unfolded them and stood them at the rear of my car facing oncoming traffic. They look so lifelike you wouldn’t believe it!

Just as I had hoped, cars started slowing down looking at the men, which made it much safer for me to work on the side of the road.

People honked and waved, and it wasn’t long before a police car pulled up behind me.

He wanted to know what the heck I was doing so I calmly explained that I was changing my flat. He told me he could see that, but demanded to know what the heck my cardboard men were doing standing at the rear of my car.

I couldn’t believe he didn’t know! So I told him …

Well, I explained to the angry Policeman …

They’re my Emergency Flashers!!!!

Emergency Flashers

I go to court next week.

(Damn Police. No sense of humor.)

***

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Flash Fiction #119

a-door

PHOTO PROMPT © CEayr

LET ME IN

It really was an unpretentious door. He remembered its far side, and thought of P.T.Barnum’s sign, “This way to the great Egress.”  Phineas said that no-one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public, trusting the unschooled to exit a portal they couldn’t return through.

This door did not conceal any cheap, threadbare sideshow though. Rather, inside were Peace, Joy and Escape, everything a man could ask for, only, not the Reality which men are forced to return to.

He smiled as he continued driving to his appointment at the rehab center. He and Reality had a date.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

***

Click on the title to hear the doo-wop group, The Sensations sing about Let Me In, in 1962.

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Who’s That Knocking At My Door?

Avon

I had thought that sociological changes would have rendered the art and practice of door-to-door sales and solicitation obsolete.  I am surprised (and disappointed) by the number of folks who still ring my chimes.

We recently replaced our front door, and now have no outer storm door, through which I can talk at unwanted callers.  If I open the door too wide, the stupid dog takes off to water all the light posts.  I must seem a strange paranoid sight, suspiciously peering out, and talking through a six-inch gap.

I was just dozing off for my 6PM nap recently, when the front door was thumped on strenuously.  When I peeked out, I saw an 18-year-old male.  Ignoring his immediate verbal presentation, I saw a belt-mounted ID badge for UNICEF.  Did I also see confusion and disappointment as I closed the door?  Put on a mask and costume, and I’ll put a dime in your collection box, as I do with the rest of the kids collecting at Halloween.

The doorbell recently rang at 3 PM.  After I shut the mouthy dog up, and stepped onto the porch, a middle-aged male handed me a coupon from Culligan, which would have him inspect my water softener for “Only $14.95.”  I’m also sure I’d be inveighed to replace my antique, which is paid for and works just fine, Thank You, and rent one from him at $29.95/Mo.

In a time and culture where both parents often work, I found 3 in the afternoon a strange time to be calling.  Wouldn’t he have done better, coming around early in the evening?

The one with the best line, and the best delivery, was a 20-something male who showed up in the middle of a Sunday afternoon.  He was dressed in a very official-looking uniform, with a very official-looking laminated badge – which didn’t actually identify his employer.

When I opened the door, he informed me that he was from, “the inspection division.”  (Of what?)  He was there to, “ensure the integrity of my home,” (My home’s integrity is better than yours!) and he would “just leave my shoes, here on the front mat” – and also looked so confused and disappointed, standing there in his socks, as I shut the door.

Governments of any level, phone, email, or send letters to inform of any such “inspections”, and damned few of them pay people to work on Sundays.  I don’t know what his game was, but the look on his face told me that I was one of the few who didn’t just unquestioningly let him in, to later wonder where the laptop, or family silver went.

It is not my job to make uninvited solicitors happy.  I don’t always try to make things hard for them….sometimes it just turns out that way.  Early of a recent evening, the doorbell rang.  I played Rock, Scissors, Biscuit with the dog – and lost.  When I gapped the door the regulation six inches, he was still barking in one ear as I tried to hear what the female of a well-dressed 20ish couple was saying.

Jehovah’s Witnesses??  No, I managed to make out that she would like me to step out, so that we could talk about my telephone bill.   Was I  ‘J. Smith?’  Kicking the dog back, I stepped out.  I didn’t confirm or deny that I was J. Smith.  I’m not the one the phone is registered to.  “Why do we need to talk about my phone bill?”

I’d already spotted ID badges, but she informed me that they were from Bell Telephone.  They just wanted to be sure that I was happy with the company and their service….was I?  “Well, it’s better now.  I had to call the repair department, and they sent a tech around this morning to do some repairs.”

That caused some consternation.  “But he got here with no problem?”  “A couple of years ago, when we had a different problem with your service, the tech arrived a day earlier than promised.  Scheduling said this one would be here the standard ‘between noon and 5PM’; he called at 10 AM, said he’d be here at 11, and showed up ten minutes later.  What if we’d been at a doctor’s appointment?”

Hmmm…no comment.  She referred to a clipboard.  “I see here that you have only a land line with us.  I assume you get your cable and internet from Rogers.”  “No, and No!  Directly above you, on the porch roof, is my Shaw satellite dish, from which I don’t get cable.”  “I’m too short.  I didn’t see it.”  Not even from the sidewalk, where you should be??  “I’ll boost you up so that you can see it.”  “No thanks!”

This is not going well – for her….I think it is.  “Bell is installing new fibre-optic cables, and we’d like to know if you’d like to pay to upgrade your service.  Are you J. Smith?”  “No, I’m not.  That would be my wife.”  “Oh, could we speak to her?”  “No, she’s upstairs in bed.”  “Oh, I hope we didn’t wake her by ringing the bell.”  “No, you set the dog off, and he woke the whole neighborhood.”  “Ohhh…”

The guy with her never said a word.  One of them was probably training the other, though I’m not sure which was which.  I told them I was already being charged too much for the amount we use their services, and shut the door before one or both of them broke down and cried.   😀

#447