Adventures in Glenlake.

So here's the day.

At about one-in-the-afternoon, myself and Meera (the other Infected) jet off to Evanston Memorial Hospital for a quick blood drawing, some tests and the hair metal that plays on a loop in the lobby of Evanston Memorial. Alas, the office that would do our work for us there is open on Monday, Wednesday and Friday (promising!) from eight-in-the-morning until eleven-in-the-morning.

That's right. Nine hours per week this place is open for workers comp claims.

So we're required to drive to Glenlake, IL for the tests at a facility out there. I must have fallen asleep at some point (I've been up at this point for about 19 hours), because I really can't recall the point at which our surroundings ceased to be at least mostly suburban and became cows. The surrounding area led me to believe that it's not someone who has cows because they need cows, but someone who has cows because they really dig on the concept of having cows.

Driving Driving Driving.

We arrive in Glenlake, at the proper site for them to steal my blood. After a quick check-up, I was given two (2) tests, one of which ruled, while the other whimpered meekly. The one that ruled involved being locked in a sort of sensory deprivation chamber (that is, a tiny soundproof booth) with a set of headphones and a buzzer. it was very Win Ben Stein's Money. Or 21. Whatever. Thing is, I apparently dig on being locked in small, soundproofed booths, hitting a buzzer whenever a note is played.

The less awesome test was a simple vision test, which I sucked at because I hadn't brought my glasses.

So that's all well and good. The Good Doctor prescribed for us 10mg/kg/day of a chelating agent (DTSA) as a prophylactic treatment, and sent off to Walgreens (specifically) to pick up the prescription, which we were assured would be covered by Workman's Comp. Before we were released, they robbed us outright of a bit of hair (they robbed Meera of quite a lot, actually, though it's unnoticeable unless you want to annoy her) and blood. The guy that stole my blood was an embittered Cubs fan that I hope won't ever take my blood again, if only because you're not supposed to be angry when you're doing that job.

Anyway, off to Walgreens to fill these prescriptions. We were given the prescriptions, and a form and nothing else. This absolutely baffled the pharmacists, who did not believe that the Workman's Comp organization existed and implied that we might have been trying to scam the pharmacy out of their DTSA (it is known to have hallucinogenic effects if smoked by people that would think that I'd want to scam a pharmacy out of a chelation therapeutic.) Perhaps, I think, it's because he admitted to not having a clue what it was the prescription was asking for (that is, he'd never heard of this drug). After some calls to the organization, the pharmacist continued to refuse to fill the prescription, and so I'm not starting that therapy quite yet. He seemed to feel a bit bad about it after we told him the chemical with which we might have been contaminated, but overall seemed not to care enough to actually give us the medicine we were supposed to get.

I'm leaving lab now.