The Pattern in the Clouds

Posted on September 9, 2004 in Coronary Routine

I spent a few minutes, looking out through an irregular quadrizoid window at the clouds passing overhead. A spatter of dusty gray covered all but the head and part of the body of a formation that resembled the silhouette of a pigeon. As I stared at it, I remembered a cartoon: a single suitcase covered with labels. Parlor. Kitchen. Library. Dining Room. The caption: Emily Dickinson’s luggage.

I’m waiting for a referral for the angiogram. Sitting in my front room, painting, reading, writing, watching the late afternoon clouds flow silver and gold. In the days when medicine was a small business, my doctor would have called the specialist himself and had me there that afternoon or the next day. In these days when medicine is Big Business, I must wait. My doctor must send a referral to a business office. They must notice that it is marked URGENT. They must call my insurance company and get the approval. They must send the referral to the provider. If I am lucky, the provider will call me as soon as they get it and make the appointment. If not, I must wait an extra few days for the yellow slip to reach me and make the call myself.

This is what capitalism calls “efficiency”. This is the dust covering my hope for speedy resolution of this crisis.