Sleeping On The Job

| Working | February 5, 2014

(My daughter is scheduled to have corrective surgery on her eyes. I come straight from work to pick her up, knowing she will be on heavy drugs to help with pain and anxiety. I go to the office where my daughter has told me to wait.)

Me: “Hi. I’m here to wait for [Daughter]. She should be going into surgery about now.”

Receptionist: “Oh, okay! Come wait in here.”

(I am guided into a completely different office.)

Receptionist: *to nurse* “Is [Daughter] here?”

Nurse: “Yep, she just went back for surgery.”

(I sit and wait with my seven-year-old son for an hour and a quarter. I’m starting to wonder why it’s taking so long, but remember my daughter had warned it could be close to two hours. I decide to keep waiting, when I look up and realize the staff are putting on their coats and turning out the lights to leave.)

Receptionist: *noticing me* “Oh, are you still waiting for [Not My Daughter’s Name]?”

Me: “No, I’m waiting for [Daughter]. Is she almost done?”

Receptionist: “Oh. She left.”

Me: “What?! Where did she go?!”

Receptionist: “Umm… [Nurse], is this lady’s daughter in surgery?”

Nurse: “Nope, everyone is gone.”

Receptionist: “Sorry, ma’am. I don’t know where she went. You’ll have to leave so we can close up.”

Me: “She’s on heavy drugs! I’m not going anywhere until you find her!”

(I try to stay calm so I don’t panic my son, but start thinking of everything that could have possibly happened to my daughter and where she could have gone. The receptionist goes into the back and grabs the doctor.)

Doctor: “What’s the problem?”

Me: “I’ve been waiting in here for an hour and a half for my daughter. She just had surgery, she’s heavily drugged, and you let her walk out of here completely alone?”

Doctor: “You should have been waiting at [first office I went to]. I’m not responsible for what happens to her after surgery. Get out so we can go home.”

Me: “I am not leaving until you find my daughter!”

(I am stunned and furious. The doctor and receptionist glare at me as I stand there in the middle of the office and refuse to move while two nurses are sent off to search for my daughter. They come back five minutes later, without her.)

Nurse: “Found her!”

Me: “What? Then where is she?”

(My daughter stumbled in behind the nurses, clearly struggling to stay awake and unable to form a clear sentence. I barely managed to get her down to the car before she completely passed out, with no apology from anyone at the office. I found out later that they had thrown her out immediately after surgery, not bothering to ask if anyone was coming to pick her up or if she had a ride. She had been waiting in the building lobby, six floors down, for 45 minutes when the nurses found her half asleep on a couch!)

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