Bahama-Drama

There are two walk-in clinics near where I live. One of them has unbearably long wait times; people have had to sit in the waiting room for literal hours before someone is able to see them. The other one is much more convenient, so that’s the one I go to.

One day, I get a really painful bladder infection. I’ve had them before, so I’m very familiar with what they feel like. I wait a few days to see if it will go away on its own with some rest, but it doesn’t. So, I make my way over to the more convenient clinic to get some antibiotics to feel better. Once I get there, I notice that the waiting area is completely blacked out. There’s a sign on the window that says “CLOSED. Sorry for the inconvenience.” I’d be fine if it was just that, but somebody has added to the sign in pencil, “I’m with a hot blonde in the Bahamas.”

Obviously, I’m pretty ticked off, so I go talk to the pharmacists that are still around to ask what’s going on. One of them, looking rather frazzled, tells me that the doctor just left without warning two weeks ago. I have to make my way to the other clinic — about a half-hour walk after a previous half-hour walk just to get to the first clinic — and wait in the waiting room for a literal hour, all while my lower half is on fire, just to get some relief. And to top it off, it’s about 28 C out — for you Americans, that’s 82.4 F.

I feel so sorry for the poor staff that got left behind to deal with that mess.