Can You Hear Me Now?

So I feel I should add something to my blog today, especially now that I know I have an audience (hello Lisa!! tee hee) I uploaded a big personal entry into my other journal today, but aside from that I have done nothing exciting… went to Walmart for a few groceries, and just my luck, set up right outside the door was a table selling Krispy Kreme doughnuts for charity. So, I bought some… For Charity.

Since I have nothing exciting to write about today, I will go back a couple months and tell of an experience I had that left an impression on me and I still think about often.

I was going to attend a business networking function that night. It started at 7:30. I had booked Access Calgary to take me there and back, which is the shared transportation system we have here for the disabled. I use them for work and medical appointments mostly, and trips must be booked up to a week in advance. They are often late, often early, and rarely do you get a direct trip anywhere.

So, my taxi picked me up about half an hour later than the scheduled time. I wasn’t too impressed… I certainly did not want to be late for this networking, it was being held by a client of mine, and he had been very selective about who he invited. If we were to go straight there (waaaaaay up to Crowfoot, a good 20-30 min. drive from me), I had plenty of time yet, but as luck would have it, we had to stop at the Fanning Centre (long term care home) to pick up someone else. I’m all panicking inside.. come on, hurry up, I don’t want to be late…

We arrive at the Fanning Centre and the driver goes in to get his other passenger. He comes back out alone. Oh good, I think, she/he is a no show, so we can just hurry straight up to Crowfoot. Noooooo… the driver gets in the car and says “she was told her pick-up was for 7:10, and it is only 7:00, so we have to wait 10 minutes”. Whaaaaa??? DAMN Access! They always do this. Their scheduling department sucks. And this woman… so what if we’re 10 minutes early!! Hurry your butt up and get in the car, what’s the big deal. I have trips show up early a lot too, and if I’m not ready, I tell them to hang on and I rush my butt out the door as fast as I can. Why hold up the line…

Breathe, Donna, Breathe. Count to 10. Freaking out isn’t going to make this woman or the driver or anyone move any faster. I just REALLY did NOT want to be late for this networking. It looks bad to be late for business related things. I’m never late for ANYTHING, I’m always the early one. Grrrrr hurry up woman, you’re pissing me off…

So 10 minutes pass, and out comes this lady. She is old (as is to be expected coming from the Fanning Centre) and using her walker. Moving at a snails pace. Come on lady, come on… the driver assists her with her walker and getting in the car, and every second seems like an hour. Finally we are ready to roll. I’m going to be late, no doubt about that, because we have to drop her off in Beddington first, and it’s pouring rain and traffic isn’t too great. Damn, I’m going to be LATE for my NETWORKING!!

I tryyyyyyy to be pleasant though. Inside I am anxious and impatient, but outside I try to stay cool. I ask this woman if she was visiting her husband at the Fanning Centre. She said “no, my son.” Son? She is old enough to have a husband living there, but not a son.

Me: Your son? How long has he lived there?
Her: 35 years.
Me: (Gasp)
Her: He had brain surgery and the doctors messed up and he’s been in here ever since.

Oh. My. God. (I’m teary and shivering again now just thinking about it). Here I am, stressing and upset about being ten flippin’ minutes late for my networking, when all this woman wanted to do was spend another TEN MINUTES with her SON who has been INSTITUTIONALIZED for THIRTY-FIVE YEARS because of botched brain surgery. Where the hell are my priorities?? Really!! Who cares if I MISSED the entire networking, this woman lost her son to a long term care facility 35 years ago and wanted to stretch out her visit to the last possible minute.

Yeah. I was late for the networking, and who the hell cares.