Gabe has what we call the sweaties.  His palms and soles sweat excessively and it has gotten to the point that his school papers were getting wet when he would write so I figured a doctor’s appointment was in order.

So Gabe, Maggie, and I spent a good chunk of our morning, then a good chunk of our afternoon at the medical clinic on base where there seems to be absolutely zero rhyme or reason for the way the place operates.  And as delightful as the corpsman was, he just could not figure out the scale and read Gabe’s height as 52 inches.
He’s 64 inches. That’s quite a difference.
It was as if he had never been shown how to get a weight and height on somebody.  Isn’t that standard in corpsman learning school?

And the clinic pharmacy….
We have to take a number, which starts with a letter and there are four different letters to choose from, each with numbers behind them and the only thing I understand about the system is that I’ll be sitting in the waiting room with 100 sick people for an hour and a half just to get a stick antiperspirant for my 13 year old’s hands.

It was a good day, really.  I was able to get my kid some relief and I didn’t have to spend any money so I’m quite thankful.

Still, if they could just figure out a better pharmacy number system. Something that makes sense. Something that will help me estimate how much time it’s going to be until my letter/number combo is called.
And teach the corpsman how to do corpsman stuff.

But then I guess it wouldn’t be the government, would it.

 

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Filed under: GabeSometimes we do stuff

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