Keith&Co.
Contributor
- Joined
- Mar 31, 2006
- Messages
- 22,444
- Location
- Far Western Mass
- Gender
- Here.
- Basic Beliefs
- I'm here...
When my wife was pregnant, we listed the things we'd put in a ready bag for her trip to the hospital. A book or two, a roll of quarters for vending machines, current list of meds...
And then for all three kids, she went into labor three yo four months early. Never packed a bag, not once.
Last weekend, had a pain in my gut, bad enough to decide to go into the ER. But before leaving, i chose to print my latest list of meds since there are about 12 items on the list and they get cranky every time i want to revisit the list. "Oh, and..."
"Did i mention ...?"
"Oh, wait, they stopped one of them. Was it...?"
"Do you count supplemental iron? Cause my insurance doesn't..."
0003 in the morning, the printer decides it only speaks, i dunno, Portuguese or something. Then, JUST as we say, fuck it, i touch the door knob and out comes a sheet... of blank paper.
So, i decided (after the abortive trip to the ER parking lot), to just go ahead and make a ready bag for the inevitable next trip.
Got an Army Surplus medic bag.
After a few trips, my packing plan assumes a two hour wait in the lobby, 8 hours in the exam room, and eventual incarceration, probably on the sometimes-pediatric floor, where characters from The Little Mermaid watch me pee, then eventually clean clothes for going home.
So, list of meds, clean underwear and socks, granola bars, a paperback that is not a medical thriller, clean t-shirt, USB charger, and a squirt gun in case my roommate is an asshole, again.
My wife thinks i might rethink the squirt gun... i ask if she remembers "Terry," who played his TV, on Volume 10 out of 10, from 0500 to midnight. What i want is a goddamned baseball bat, but it's only a 9 inch bag... now she admires my restraint.
But she doesn't want one for her bag....
And then for all three kids, she went into labor three yo four months early. Never packed a bag, not once.
Last weekend, had a pain in my gut, bad enough to decide to go into the ER. But before leaving, i chose to print my latest list of meds since there are about 12 items on the list and they get cranky every time i want to revisit the list. "Oh, and..."
"Did i mention ...?"
"Oh, wait, they stopped one of them. Was it...?"
"Do you count supplemental iron? Cause my insurance doesn't..."
0003 in the morning, the printer decides it only speaks, i dunno, Portuguese or something. Then, JUST as we say, fuck it, i touch the door knob and out comes a sheet... of blank paper.
So, i decided (after the abortive trip to the ER parking lot), to just go ahead and make a ready bag for the inevitable next trip.
Got an Army Surplus medic bag.
After a few trips, my packing plan assumes a two hour wait in the lobby, 8 hours in the exam room, and eventual incarceration, probably on the sometimes-pediatric floor, where characters from The Little Mermaid watch me pee, then eventually clean clothes for going home.
So, list of meds, clean underwear and socks, granola bars, a paperback that is not a medical thriller, clean t-shirt, USB charger, and a squirt gun in case my roommate is an asshole, again.
My wife thinks i might rethink the squirt gun... i ask if she remembers "Terry," who played his TV, on Volume 10 out of 10, from 0500 to midnight. What i want is a goddamned baseball bat, but it's only a 9 inch bag... now she admires my restraint.
But she doesn't want one for her bag....
