I'M THE CHILD WITH THE LUNG ISSUE

Disclaimer: Let me preface this blog by stating, I have the most wonderful parents in the world. They have given me everything a girl could possibly want and then some. I am truly blessed to have them in my life. With that being said, there are times I wonder if I was left on their doorstep and they kept me around for tax purposes.

It is officially Christmas break, a treasured time for teachers when they can escape from their responsibilities, slough off on their grading and enter a life of normalcy (for at least two weeks). This year, considering the fact that have embarked on so many different adventures (new school for teaching, new grad program, seeking administrative aspirations) I decided to retreat to my parent's home in Sacramento. I knew that I would have the opportunity to do nothing there because I did nothing there during the eleven years of my residency.

It is the perfect vacation spot. I can turn the heat on as high as I want, eat as much as I can stomach and watch high definition television on a large plasma screen at no detriment to my pocketbook. It is lovely...

However, no vacation can last very long in my world. There is always something that needs to be done, as USC so kindly reminded my in an email stating that I had a hold on my registration due to my inability to verify my immunization records for measels, mumps and ruebela. No problem! I think to myself, I will just drive up to the Kaiser, have them print out a copy and have them fax it to SC. If I finish in enough time, I can get home in time for Montel.

Normally, I would put on a decent outfit for a trip to the hospital. But I'm on vacation, and did not bring any outfit to impress (you would think I would learn my lesson from my library experience during Finals Week [See blog "I Shoulda Known Better]). The most high fashion outfit I have is a pair of flanel pajamas peppered with the image of Spongebob Squarepants and a stretched out Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirt with a faded moose on the back. Once again, I think to myself, No problem. This is Sacramento, and there are never any cute people roaming around. I'm safe. Just put something on, get in the car and get on!

And that's what I did. I threw a scarf on my head, fished out some dark denim, threw on the faded moose with a pea coat and ran out the door. I won't be gone too long.

But once again, this is my life...

I arrive at Kaiser only to get into a verbal altercation with a man in a wheelchair who decided to hit the hood of my car because he felt I was driving too fast in the parking lot. I tried to to maintain my compsure until he got out of the wheelchair to come to my driver side window and share more of his Christmas cheer. I threw up my hand, mumbled a "peace be with you" and proceeded to park in a handicap spot just to spite him.

I then proceeded to the Member Services counter to request a copy of my immunization records, only to discover that my parents haven;t had me immunized...for anything. There has to be some mistake, I tell the secretary, I know my parents had me immunized. You better check again! No record. I call my mother at her office to clarify the situation.

Mom, Kaiser says that I wasn't immunized!
That can't be true. Your father took you when you were younger.
Are you sure Mommy? We all know Dad has a tendency to forget!
No, I'm pretty sure...I think. Well, know that I think about it, did he take you or Julian?
Mom, should I be talking to you or Dad about this?
Try calling your father. He should remember.
Mom...Daddy can't remember anything other than the sports channels and the Raiders home game schedule.
Don't talk about your father like that! Just give him a call. I know he'll remember. I can't talk for very much longer. I have to check my bid on eBay.
Shouldn't you be work...nevermind. I'll call Dad.

I call Dad.

Dad, did you take me to get my immunization shots?
Who's this?
I'm the child with the lung issue. The one who was born prematurely. Spent a month in the incubator. Racked up several hundred dollars in parking tickets. The one you forgot to immunize.
Oh, hey! What's this about immunization?
Did you take me to get my shots when I was a kid?
I think so...or was that Julian?
Nevermind...I'll just get them today.
Sounds good. I gotta get back to my bid on eBay.
Shouln't you be work...I'll talk to you later.

I return to to counter to make my appointment. Luckily, they were able to schedule me for the same day and I quickly proceed to the third floor to nervously wait for my injection. When I try to check in, the nurse looks curiously at me and then my appointment. She questions if I made the correct appointment.

Yes. I need my immunization shots.
A little late in the game aren't you?
(In my head) Woman, if you don't check me in, I will snatch that discount Santa hat off your head and make it a floor mat.
Well, sweetie, the only doctor that can give you this shot is down in pediatrics, so you will have to go there.
(In my head) WHAT?!

I angrily march down to pediatrics to sit with toddlers and their parents. I am surrounded by Barney stuffed animals, ancient "Child Today" magazines, Tinker Toys and miniature multicolored plastic furniture. To make matter worse, all of the "grown up furniture" was taken, so I had to squeeze my butt into one of the small chairs. When the nurse finally called my name, I solicited the help of some three years olds to pry it from my rear end (I guess I need to go easy on the Christmas coookies).

As with standard procedure, they took my blood pressure and noted that it was unusually high. Hey lady, if you just found out that your family forgot to immunize you and you have been walking around the past 25 years catching Lord-knows-what kind of airborne illnesses, you would have high blood pressure too. They then take my weight and note that it is high too. Yes, I am aware of this because there are two three year olds in the waiting room who are probably suffering from a concussion because they flew into the wall after trying to pry your plastic furniture from my a$$. Plus, I'm on vacation, so I can eat what I want. I'll start my rigorous running program when I get back to Los Angeles. I'll go to some neighborhood in South Central, put on the wrong colors, insult someone's mother and start running.

They direct me to the doctor's office,and instruct me to wait. I guess now would be the time to mention that I hate hospitals. The entire time I am sitting there, the only thing I can think about is how much I want to get out of there. And then, the doctor walks in...

Remember, this is my life...

The doctor was hot! When did Sacramento receive an import of tall, young and hot Nigerian doctors? They never lived here during my residency. I guess it is time to move back! In his thick accent, he asks me how I am feeling and the nature of my visit. I am almost too embarassed to answer. He must think I am an escaped mental patient with this outfit on, so I better clarify. I tell him I need my immunization shots. He asks me what took so long and I told him that my parents were so busy taking care of their other 13 adopted children, I just fell through the cracks. He chuckled because he knew I was lying. Score. All I have to do is ask for his hand in marriage and I am home free! He says that he will get things squared away for me and leaves the room. Minutes later he returns with the nurse, informs me that she would take care of the immunization and wishes me a happy holiday.

Did Kaiser send this man in as a teaser? Why am I sitting here now with Esther giving me a shot in my right arm? Should I try to find him after the shot? How crazy would that look...my grown up self running around the pediatrics department trying to find a husband.

I take the shot, get my Fairly Oddparents band-aid and return to my car, hoping, that by some Christmas miracle, he will run into the parking lot to ask for my number. But alas, that did not happen. Instead, the security guard working next to the pharmacy yelled out "Hey lil' momma!" and I pretended not to hear him.

Happy Holidays...I wonder if Santa can put a man under the tree?