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REPLY TO THREAD
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That's it. We're done. I've seen it.
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Original Message
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Body wanded, purse searched, driver's license looked at and noted, name tagged with security guard's initials.
So I, me, 53yo fat housewife, t-shirt & jeans, can pop into my doctor's reception area and pick up a prescription waiting in an envelope.
I guess you could say I'm triggered. I went off. Right there. At the hospital entrance, through to the reception area two feet behind him, signed for my scrip producing ID AGAIN, wished everyone a great day and thank you and went out the door. Still triggered.
I shit you not. But I was 'professional'. In all my actions except what was coming out of my mouth, at a normal tone of voice, not yelling, but if you were within 10 feet you knew I was having a conversation with the guard and receptionist and the lady behind me "in line" to be wanded.
Mostly it went, "Holy crap! Is this what we've come to?!"
And I waited for answers.
Most of which went like, "It's the day we live in," cheerfully yet resignedly intoned.
"And we're just going to take it?!" I pursued.
Shrug. Deer in headlights look.
Followed by, "Well, it's important to be safe."
I was silent but shaking me head in wonder and shock. And then it came to me.
"Wasn't it Benjamin Franklin who said, 'Those who give up liberty for safety deserve neither'?"
Shrug. Deer in headlights look.
Me now staring, "Oh my God. We're so done."
(Pause, finishing transaction. Wanding, signing.)
Looking up, I said with unfeigned but well-practiced polite cheer, "But have a great weekend and thanks!"
Smiling while continually and slowly shaking my head, and I'm sure I had the thousand-yard stare.
I simply could not believe it.
This small community hospital went from one pimple-faced kid in an orange-domed Ford Ranger prowling the parking lots. You could park right in front of drop-off with impunity and never be cited, but we don't because we're a polite town.
And now I parked in the loading zone, popped in the door, and WHAM! You now live in Tel Aviv. There's danger around every corner and coming down every corridor and we are here to protect you!
After we slam up into your day with a personal shakedown, no matter how polite and still pimply I am. And by the way, quote, "Do you have anything sharp on you?"
"I... don't... think... so..." comes out day-dreamily.
I need that scrip. I have to pick it up every month because it's some controlled substance that's evidently worth money on the street. I wouldn't know how much or where to go about nailing that value down, but that's what I'm assuming.
Grandma. 53. Fat housewife. Very cheerful and kind at all times. Unless something else is in order.
I'm a sheep dog. I still have blooming adults under my own, roof, and I'll protect my neighbors children as if they're mine if they're hurt, upset, in danger, hungry, or about to take a bullet. Those who can relate know who you are, and I suspect that's most of the core group here.
So, yeah, I'm triggered. And they know it. And because this was a doctor's/hospital setting at which I am a patient every six months, and signed for my monthly scrip, I'm sure they mentioned to my doctor that I was 'a bit upset' or something along those lines.
I just walked in the door, sat down, and wrote this. I fully expect my phone to ring with said doctor asking if I'm okay. Or, I fully expect one of our two small-town cops to knock on my door doing 'a welfare check.'
Or nothing. I don't know what to expect. Because that's the world we live in.
***
There are probably more installments of this to come, as my mind raced on the drive home and my husband would not answer his phone. I went from outrage to literal tear-streaming despair between the 10 minutes from there to here. I may try to capture it all, as it was both expansive and frightening. Our future, I think we're done.
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