Dear Folks, I'm forewarning you that this is going to be a rambling story regarding "How I Spent My Day." So with that warning I'll tell ya the whole nine yards. Today I had three clinic appointment at the VA Hospital in Buffalo. I always hate the 1-hour drive up there but I steeled myself and prepared myself well. I had a 2:00 appointment for a mammogram and then one at 2:15 for a bone density scan and then one at 2:30 with my podiatrist. I got there in plenty of time but when I got to the handicapped parking spaces there and found that I would have to park too far from the entrance to the hospital, I knew that I couldn't possibly walk the distance with only the help of my cane. I drove up to the entrance and told the nearest volunteer or staff member what my problem was and told him that I would have to have someone pick me up to wherever I had parked and wheel me into the hospital with a wheelchair. It took a bit of doing but I finally made it into the hospital. From there I approached the "receptionist" and told her I was a patient and needed to be wheeled up to 2A. She got right on the phone and called the "Escort Service" but from there it really went down hill. It was obvious that the receptionist was new to the job and barely had a clue what she was doing. Whoever she called she was informed to the affect that "it wasn't in her job description." I don't know how she managed to find me an escort but by that time I was already 20 minutes late for my appointment. The escort was a bit brusque with me but she managed somehow to deliver me to 2A. Once I had checked myself into the clinic, she just disappeared without a word. Eventually a mammogram technician wheeled me into the horror chamber known as the mammogram room. I went through the routine of removing my clothing from the waist up, putting on one of the drafty hospital gowns and finally facing the ultimate horror machine. The technician was a very kind person who appreciated how painful the mammogram was. But no matter how kind and considerate she was, it was still the almost unbearable pain of having my breast squashed to the size of a pancake. If the pain would have been any worse, I swear I would have passed out. But there was one saving grace. Since my mastectomy in 2000, I had to endure such pain only once. After all I'm a member of the tribe of "One-breasted women." After the procedure was over and we were awaiting the results, the technician and I got into a giggly conversation that lifted my spirits. However by that time it was already 3:00 and I had two more appointments that I was really late for. The technician called both clinics and they were able to rearrange the appointments. But once again she had a problem calling the escort service for someone to take me down to the first floor in my wheelchair. Finally I was picked up by the same surly escort who had wheeled me up there in the first place. Nonetheless everyone in the podiatry clinic were very pleasant and had a sense of humor in spite of my being 1-1/2 hours late for my appointment. The podiatrist and I had a pleasant humorous conversation and so it relaxed me. It made me feel better when they were able to get an escort to wheel me up to the fourth floor where the Nuclear Medicine clinic was. That's where I had my bone density scan. Granted, it took a bit of time for the technician was able to finally wheel me into the bone density room. Nonetheless, he also had a good sense of humor and I finally was scanned. However, by that time I was aching from my butt all the way down to my ankles. He also had a serious problem with finding an escort for me (by that time it was after 4:00 and apparently it was the time for the "changing of the guard.) Because there was no one to help me, he decided that it wouldn't be all that much trouble for him to wheel me back to the first floor himself. Eventually he deposited me at the exit to the hospital and I was on my own from thereon. No big problem, I managed to get myself out of the wheelchair and hobble my way back to my car. The minute I got seated in the car I desperately reached for a cigarette. After all, I hadn't been able to smoke one for over 2 hours. The drive home was similar to my drive up to the hospital. All day long we had drizzling rain (thank goodness it wasn't snow!) and it was a matter of controlling the windshield wipers. At times I could set them at intermittent and then there were time when I had to set them at full blast whenever an 18-wheeler whizzed by me. That's the way the whole trip went. By the time I pulled my car into the garage and hobbled into my house I was almost mentally and physically exhausted. It was about 5:10. After I hung up my winter jacket and hung up my "fur" hat, I headed for the refrigerator and poured myself a big glass of Chardonnay and headed into my living room where I could take a few minutes to relax in my cozy armchair and get caught up on the latest murder mystery I've been reading. When it came to dinner time, I was refreshed enough to thaw out and heat up a scrumptious dinner of spaghetti with sour cream and ripe olives sauce. So even though I had managed getting through the frustration and pain that I had to go through at the hospital, I finally managed to drive myself back to the haven of my house. In retrospect it was all worthwhile in the caring for my health. But there ain't nothin' like home. vee