I know I have talked about some of the problems we are having with our medical bills lately, but here's a quick recap. All of the doctors and clinics here are affiliated with one of the two local hospitals. Therefore, all of the billing is done through one place. Sometime last year, the hospital we use started outsourcing its billing to another company. I really wouldn't care except that this year we have gotten seven bills at least four months, and up to seven months, after the date of service. We had to make a mad dash to spend over $2000 from our flex account last year on over the counter meds, etc. so we wouldn't lose it. Six out of those seven bills were incurred during the last plan year, which means we had to pay them out of pocket. They totalled almost $1000. Needless to say, I've been shopping around for a private practice, which apparently doesn't exist here. Anyway, on to my story of today.
I noticed a while back that a new walk-in place had opened not far from my apartment, but I never got a chance to drop in until today. When I walked into the reception area, I thought it was funny that instead of a waiting room, there were three round tables, each with six chairs, and a reception desk with a very perky 14 year old girl behind it. (I'm sure she was over 14, but I'd need to check her ID to prove it.) She very enthusiastically asked if she could help me, to which I responded, "I don't know. What do you do here?" "Oh, we are a medical marijuana distribution clinic." Huge smile. Great customer service. "A what?" "Medical marijuana. Do you need some help?"
I see now that this is where I should have just said no (duh) and walked out, but I hesitated, and a giggle formed in my throat. It was just long enough for her to engage me in conversation that, looking back, was ridiculous, and probably made me look like I wanted pot, but was too embarrassed to admit it. By the time I got out of there, I was shocked and a little shaken. It was definitely not how I was expecting to spend my afternoon.
I drove home, still a little flustered, parked my mom's car, and went up to apartment. Flash forward a few hours. We are running low on food (and dish soap, and bread, and mayo...), so I called in a to-go order at my husband's restaurant. When I went outside to pick it up, my mom's car was not parked in my spot. I stood there like a stooge, completely dumbfounded. They had towed my mom's car right out of my parking space! The more I thought it over, the less sense it made. They wouldn't tow it because she has my parking permit on her mirror. Oh God, please tell me it wasn't stolen!! How was I going to tell my mom that her car, her one paid off, decent possession, had been stolen right out from under us???
I staggered up the stairs, opened the door, and I must have looked like I was in shock because Mom asked if I was feeling OK. "Um, no. Did I park your car back in my spot?" "I don't know. I didn't look when you got home. Why?" "Well, I'm pretty sure I did, but it's gone." I figured I'd better go back out just to see if I was losing my mind. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I scanned through the cars in the lot. Wait. What? Is that? No. Couldn't be. Did I really do that? I slowly walked over to the car parked two spaces down from mine... Crap. I did. I had parked it in the wrong spot! I got in and started backing out just as my mom came down the stairs, spied my position, grinned and mouthed "oops!" in my direction. I'm not sure what happened, but I'm blaming it on a contact high from the medicinal marijuana clinic!!! (Do my clothes smell funny? I'm hungry!)