Losing it

I come from people with no filters. Happy, sad, or infuriated, if they are feeling it, you are going to know it. It has taken me many years to learn how to control myself, and still, here in the land of stoicism, people think I am outrageous. Recently, I was jolly at a party and one old friend said to someone I just met, "See, isn't she just the way I described her?" Then she gave my bewildered face a kiss.

Today though, after trying to be reasonable, trying to comply, I was pushed too far and I lost it. The facts are simple. The old lady, 97, thought she had a bladder infection and I brought her to Urgent Care. First we had to take a number and then a triage nurse called us. Then back to the waiting room and then an insurance person called us. I left Mom sitting there while I went to take care of business. The woman smiled and said, "Harriet?" No, I explained I was her daughter and pointed her out. I handed over the insurance card, verified her address and date of birth, (February 10, 1914).  Then I was asked her telephone number. I blanked. I looked at the iphone but could only get the name, not the actual number until much later. All this time I was smiling, the woman was smiling and all was well. Then I remembered! I gave the number but it was one digit off. Still smiling, the clerk said no. I asked if I was close and she wouldn't tell me. What difference did it make, I asked. There she was, sitting in the waiting room, here I was, what difference did the phone number make? She needed that number to verify that it was the right person.

Before I knew it I was raising my voice. Of course this was the right person! Do I go bringing anyone else's ninety-seven year old mother to the clinic? Smiling still, she told me they needed to verify her identity. So asinine, as if someone pretending to be someone else wouldn't learn that telephone number. "THERE SHE IS! SHE IS RIGHT THERE!" I started to wheeze. People who know me know this is a very, very bad sign. (If I had thought about it, and if they had asked, I even had her state identity card with me although nobody has asked to see it in six years.) I was yelling random numbers, 9336, 9663 and making a scene. All kinds of people came running, "Miss, Miss, please calm down, you need to calm down. Come in back." All the while that little bureaucrat sat at her desk unaffectedly smiling.

Well, I couldn't calm down, the old lady, who can hardly see, was saying, "Why are you upsetting my daughter? She's a good daughter. What is going on?" And I was literally wheezing with rage and frustration. Zero to meltdown in a few short minutes. Finally someone got the two of us into an examination room, out of the public eye. I dried my eyes and got breath back. A nurse came in to talk to us. I told her that the woman wouldn't even give me a hint if I was close and the nurse said, "Oh, she needs to learn some sensitivity. That was wrong." And I was instantly calm. I was able to go into the contacts list on the phone and hit edit. There was the number, 9036.

When I am not being listened to, I get loud, then I get louder, thinking if I say it louder I will be understood. Then I lose control of my breathing and start to wheeze trying to get my point across. It is not pretty. Am I proud of becoming a fire eating dragon who embarrasses everyone around me? No, it is awful. Can I control it? Yes, most times. My kids are amazed at the patience I show the folks. They can hardly believe it is me. But sometimes, when confronted with petty bullshit, and having my actions controlled by petty bullshit, I lose it.

The nurses and medical assistants were very kind to the old lady and took her sample over to the lab instead of making us check in there too. A kind doctor wrote a prescription, and sent it to the pharmacy where it was filled in just ten minutes. As we were leaving I saw the young mother who came in after us still waiting for her baby to be seen. I hadn't wanted special treatment, truly.

Today I was lucky, yes lucky. I did not get a headache, or have intestinal distress as collateral damage to losing it. I haven't lost my voice, or held on to outrage. I am a little sad and disappointed for allowing myself to get into a state. Next time I will do better. Or maybe I won't. I would like it if my mighty wrath was put to a much better use. But as one friend reassured me, even Saints don't always live 100% pristine lives. Ah, perspective.