The day’s agenda is controlled by my trip to the Tucson Hospital for a periodic blood draw.  As a part of managing my condition, I am supposed to have blood tests performed every two weeks so that my rheumatologist can monitor results to determine how I am responding to my prednisone dosage and hopefully begin to reduce it over time.

It has taken awhile to arrange this first visit.  The scenario is that I have to locate a lab that will perform the tests, and then fax the fax number of the lab to my rheumatologist so that they can fax back to the lab the orders for the two tests I need.

That doesn’t sound that complicated, but after several unsuccessful iterations I think we’re there.  The rheumatologist confirmed that they have submitted the referrals and I should be able to go in at my convenience.

We don’t really know how this will actually go though.  My plan is to take Uber to get to and from the hospital, and keep Rachael informed about my progress so we can plan our day.  If things go well we’d like to have lunch together at Proof Artisinal Pizza and Pasta, in the same complex where we met up with Kelly and her friend Jan and then with Wendy and her friend Jan.

So, we’ll start with my outing and see how it goes.  Its a new outing that calls for a new script: A trip using Uber to a testing lab for a blood draw.

The first Uber ride, to the first facility

So how did it go?  well, it was ultimately successful but came with more details of interest than I expected or wanted - beginning with the Uber ride to the Tucson Hospital about five miles to the southeast.  Based on our recent Uber experiences I tried to keep the trip simple by picking known destinations at both ends: the bank on the corner next to our apartment, and th hospital itself.  I booked it from home and then left immediately since the ride was due to arrive in a white Toyota in three minutes.  I found a spot in the sun and watched the car’s progress - now only a mile away, but stopped.  On Granada.  On the wrong side of the train tracks.

Three minutes becomes twelve (all the while with updates saying the driver is on the fastest route) until the inevitable happens and the car reverses direction and proceeds to the Stone Street underpass.  I watch as it drives up Stone, appears to overshoot (although I don’t see a white Toyota pass by), turn right and then stop, allegedly only 500 feet away.  I’m thinking Uber has driven him up the alley, but he just stays there.  More minutes pass, and then I finally notice that I’m no longer looking for a white car - it’s been switched, and now I’m waiting for a black one.  And then I see there are canned messages I can send the drive.pe.  I’m here, I announce, and a response soon comes: me too.  And I look around and see a black car at the opposite side of the parking lot.  It’s the same driver, but she’s apparently got two cars and reported the wrong one first.

At the Tucson Hospital

I arrive at the hospital around a half hour past when I expected, so as soon as I’ve checked in I call Rachael to update her on my status.  A minute later the receptionist calls me up to deliver some unwelcome news - they don’t have an order for a blood test.  Groan.

There’s some back and forth, but the upshot is that the hospital’s website has two different fax numbers, and I was unlucky and found the wrong one.  So I call the rheumatologist to report this and hand the phone to the receptionist so she can give the correct fax number.  No problem, they’re right on it, they’ll fax the tests down immediately.

Fifteen minutes later the receptionist calls with more unwelcome news: the test referral still has not arrived.  I call the rheumatologist once more, they say that unfortunately the fax line was busy, but they’ll try again.  And a few minutes later I hear the comforting sound of a printer at work.

A few minutes later the receptionist calls again, once more with unwelcome news.  There are two different tests, but they can only take one of them.  I’ll have to go somewhere else for the other one.  I’m here, they take my blood after comforting me by asking my name and date of birth, and I’m done here for today.  Before leaving I call Rachael again to update her about the situation, and to gripe just a bit.  Before I go, the receptionist hands me both referrals and suggests I try the nearest Labcorp facility, saying it’s probably my only hope.

The second Uber ride, to the second facility

My second driver arrives three minutes later and shortly drops me off at the Subway around the corner from the nearest Labcorp outlet two miles east of here on Speedway (it's a chain, and it looks like there are four or five of them in Tucson).  I’ve made it easy on the driver by picking the Subway, a known location, as my drop off spot, and it all goes well.

I’m directed to a self checkin kiosk and then take my order to the counter, hopeful that it will be accepted and that they have the test I require.  There are a few worrisome moments but eventually they agree that the referral is fine they do have the test I need, and five minutes later my name is called.  They ask my name and date of birth, stab me, and five minutes I’m out the door bringing up the Uber app again.

The third Uber ride

Three minutes later my ride arrives and we start the six mile drive to the bank next door to our apartment. As we drive, Alessandro and I have an excellent conversation.  He’s from Cuba, but moved to Tucson twelve years ago for economic reasons.  I tell him that Rachael and I came close to taking a bike tour of Cuba maybe fifteen years ago, and explained why we chose not to.

He spoke at length about his country, and how even after all this time Cuba is still home to him.  He goes home once or twice a year to reconnect and visit family, but also to relax and escape.  There is no internet on the island so you can’t follow the news or waste your day walking through paradise with your nose glued to your phone.  It sound very therapeutic.

Lunch date

It’s nearing one when I’m finally home.  I call Rachael to check in and discuss the situation and am happy to discover that she’s well on her way toward Rillito Wash,, where we were hoping to have lunch at Proof Artisanal Pizza and Pasta.  I tell her I’m on my way, the first one there will claim a table indoors or outside in the shade, and a half an hour she hollers her location to me when she sees me approaching.

And it’s a fine lunch.  We both enjoy our meals and sitting in the sun, so it definitely counts as a good day.  I got my tests completed, Rachael loved her pizza, and the rest of the day is relaxed, spent sitting around the apartment and polishing of the rest of the stir fry.

Still though, I think we need to say our streak has been broken here by events beyond our control, and we have our first good story day since resorting to a methodology.  These things happen.

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marilyn swettYum! That looks really good
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1 week ago

Rachael AndersonTo marilyn swettIt’s was amazing! We’re going back to the same place so I can have it again. It’s big enough that I can have leftovers.
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1 week ago

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