It’s cliche to say so (and even more cliche to point out the cliche), but “Urgent Care” really is anything but. Last night, for the first time in my life, I had to go to the urgent care center because my doctor’s office was closed. My doc’s office directed me to one that was 15 miles away, but I opted to go to the one that was .5 miles away (duh).
I should have known I was in trouble when I walked into a roomful of people. I ended up sitting in the waiting room feeling like someone was repeatedly kicking me in the lower stomach for an hour and fifteen minutes before I was taken in. By the time all was said and done, I was out in a little under two hours. I realize it could have been a lot worse, but I found myself silently cursing the people that came to urgent care and looked just fine. “That dude can’t be sick… he’s laughing and smiling! I should get to go before him!”
At least they got the “Care” part of “Urgent Care” correct, as I did walk out cared for thanks to a shot in the arm of an amazing anti-nausea drug.
Posted in Consumer Commentary, Everyday Life