Today was shoe fitting day. Ma already had her coat on when I arrived. The route was the same as last week. We had to drop Dad off at the senior center, and again, he was out the door before I had brought the car to a complete stop.
There was plenty of parking at the medical center lot too. I even got a handicap parking spot. That should have been a clue.
I would never think skipping was possible with a walker, but that's what Ma did across the crosswalk and into the building. We didn't even have to wait for an elevator. The doors opened up just as I was to push the up button.
I held the elevator door open for Ma and she skipped across the lobby to the doctor's office. I reached around her and pushed the door handle. Imagine my surprise when the door wouldn't budge. It was locked tighter than Scrooge's purse! Ma kept trying the door and I finally got her to sit in a chair in the lobby while I went to the doctor's office next to the podiatrist. That office was locked too. The third office I tried was open.
The receptionist was on the phone, and I tried to be still and polite all the while screaming in my head Get off the damn phone and help me!
I told her my tale of woe and she kindly called the podiatrist's office.
Relief! Someone's in the office. The door must have been locked by mistake!
"Yes, I'll let her know," said the receptionist. She scribbled something on a note pad, tore the sheet and handed it to me. Neatly printed on the paper was the doctor's name and office number. "Their office is closed on Wednesdays. No one would have made an appointment for Wednesday. That was the answering service."
I thanked the receptionist and went to get Ma in the lobby. She was not happy, and she sputtered like a teakettle all the way to the car. It was not going to be pretty when we picked Dad up. I heard the "He's Stupid" song, along with variations on the theme. I told her the blame really wasn't on Dad, but on the doctor. Afterall, Ma was in the office last week. He could have taken her foot measurements, let her pick the shoes from the catalog, and put the paperwork aside until her primary care doctor sent the signature needed for the insurance. It would have been no skin off the podiatrist's nose. It's not like he had to pay for Ma's shoes out of his own pocket. On the other hand, he couldn't bill the insurance company for another office visit if he had taken care of business last week. I hope the needles fall off his Christmas tree.
Now, I'm not sure what happened. I wasn't sure if Dad had forgotten to make the actual appointment. He swore up and down he had called the doctor's office, and they gave him the appointment for Wednesday at 10 am. Maybe they meant the appointment was for the second Wednesday of the week. I'll have to check my PDA