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When the pediatrician couldn't figure out what the lump next to Ada's eye is, he referred her to the major regional hospital--the place you go when you're really in trouble.


This particular hospital not only has bad associations for me because it's the place to go when you're too bad off for the local hospital, but I've also had a few personal visits there that were pretty much terrifying--as in, testing-my-kid-for-something-that-would-probably-kill-them level of fear.


Not only that, but the hospital is made up of about eight different ginormous, sprawling buildings, all of which are perpetually under construction so the entrances are constantly shifting, and not all of them adjacent to the sole parking garage.


So, seeing as I was thrilled enough to be headed that way, you can imagine it was the cherry on top to learn that we would be seeing a first-year resident rather than the main doctor.  Perfect.


After a long ride in the car, I was in serious need of a pit stop--a need that grew increasingly desperate as I followed a line of cars around and up the parking garage at 3 miles per hour.


I started to consider double-parking and making a run for it.


We were also about to be late for the appointment, and I still didn't even know which building it was in.  I wasn't driving to the emergency room, but I was reminded of Brian Regan's emergency room bit--


I'm circling around the parking lot.  'Can I park there?  I think I'm gonna die.'  

'I'm dying too.'  

'Ok, go ahead.  Yeah, I'll go up a couple levels.'  

[Humming]


Thanks to a very kind lady in the elevator who redirected me, Ada and I ran down a hill and up a hill to the correct building, found a bathroom, and made it to the eye clinic in reasonable time.


It was a dreary place, with outdated orange linoleum, low, dim ceilings, and unhappy receptionists.


Nor was the exam room designed to put me at ease.  It was roughly the size of a broom closet, so that I inadvertently stepped onto a floor pedal that turned out the lights as soon as we walked in.  The only chair available for me was in the extreme corner, behind all the optical equipment, so I had to peer around it to see Ada there on the big chair.


The practitioner himself looked about thirteen years old.  That really didn't instill confidence in me, nor did it when he got his lab coat stuck on the doorknob on his way in and had to struggle to release himself.


His name was clearly displayed on a nameplate, with an engraved "MD" after it, presumably to fend off frazzled parents ready to throw aside the equipment and come at him shrieking, "Are you even a REAL DOCTOR??!"


Not that I could identify with that urge.


Thankfully, he eventually told us to come back after lunch and see the main doctor, who assured me that Ada's lump is benign and does not call for surgery.  He prescribed hot compresses and had us make another appointment (with the resident) in three weeks.


I just....can't....wait.