The last few days, the folks at the Radiation Shack have been running behind . The extended time in the waiting room has been sapping my will to live. If gnawing my arm off would’ve gotten me away from the blaring soap operas, I’d have done it. In fact, I was half-tempted to start gnawing just to take my mind off of the assault on my senses. One day I was there 1-1/2 hours…only about 20 minutes of which did I get to spend in the sanctuary of the treatment area. Yesterday, I was lamenting all of this to Kelly, one of the therapists. She commented that the TV has been on the same channel ever since she’s been there. People, she’s been there for 5 years! I’m thinkin’ “Good grief! Even back in the day when we had to use carefully sculpted aluminum foil on the rabbit ears, we still managed to get at LEAST two channels!”
Why in the world would that TV have been on the same channel for five years straight? Well, I have a theory. The TV has a sign taped to the front, over the control buttons that says, “If you want the channel changed, ask the receptionist.” My theory is that this is because about 5 years and 1 day ago…the day before Kelly started working there…there was a big throw down in the waiting room over the channel selection. Coincidentally, the normally mild-mannered Dr Haerr had just completed an experiment gone awry, in which he’d caused himself to turn green, become muscle-bound, and bust out of his clothes whenever he became angry. When Dr Haerr saw Mildred and Ruby beatin’ the tar out of each other, and tearing up the joint in the process, he lost his cool. Needless to say, this made a lasting impression on everyone involved. Everyone, that is, except Dr Haerr, who curiously has no memory of it.
In the interest of harmony, the receptionist decided to switch the TV to Channel 10—which neither Ruby, nor Mildred wanted—and put up the aforementioned sign. Other folks could request that the channel be changed, but everyone was so freaked out by the whole episode, that no one ever has.
Fast forward to yesterday…I’m crying to Kelly about being oppressed by the soap operas. She comments that she just might have an idea of what to do about that. As I’m leaving, I give her a card with my blog info on it. Today I come in, and lo’ and behold—it’s the Food Network! Woo hoo! Somehow, the room seems lighter, happier. Somehow, I don’t mind the time I have to wait. When they call my name I’m like, “Already? Dang it! Emeril’s right in the middle of Chicken Spinach Lasagna.”
I’m pretty sure that I wasn’t the only one who appreciated the change, either. Even the woman that Mini Me and I have nicknamed The Crabby Lady for her constant negative commentary was happier, in her own crabby way, and said, “I hate this place! At least they don’t have those stupid soap operas on today—I hate soap operas…”
Thanks Kelly—you rock!
We can only hope Dr Haerr prefers the Food Network, too.