When I woke up this morning I didn’t really think I’d be starting off a sentence with ”So funny story about my day in the ghetto…” but if I’ve learned anything in this life it’s to never discount that possibility, so here we are. I’ve been sick as shit for the past week but put off making an appointment with a doctor because a) I don’t have a doctor and b) I don’t have a doctor because I don’t have health insurance (raise the roof!). It’s a self-perpetuating cycle. I finally made an appointment today at a walk-in clinic because my job required a doctor’s note before they would allow me to return to work because, I don’t know, it’s not fucking obvious through the snot dripping down my face or the hacking cough that’s strong enough to deafen a small child that, maybe, I’m totally NOT faking it and ohmyfuckinggod this shitty retail establishment would still be able to function if Karlie didn’t make it in for her four hour work shift of shitty shittiness?
So the Boyfriend drove me all the way to the clinic location before we realized that the ‘south’ we had thought to be part of the address was actually supposed to be ‘north’. And maybe this would seem like a minute detail except for the fact that North Minneapolis–fondly referred to as Murderopolis (no seriously, it’s really called that)–is the straight up ghetto. The way I saw it, I either had the sure option of dying by death from the sickness I’ve had for the past week or only possibly dying by stray bullet. My doctor was refreshingly normal–and he better get a boatload of money from the government for taking one for the team and working to better this community–and asked the usual questions. “Yes, I work at the mall but have another, ‘real’ job but, uh huh, right, yea, I don’t have health insurance and, no, I live no where near here, I actually used to have health insurance, live in the sunshine and earn almost twice as much as I do now, uh huh, right” type questions. Long story short, I either have a ‘really bad cold or a ‘minor sinus infection,’ so, you know, stay tuned there. Aside from the not one, but two (TWO! Bonus!) groups of two guys, both in to see the doctor from fear of having contracted the same litany of STDs from having sex with the same ‘nasty’ chick within the span of a week, and despite the fact that my nurse used the ‘hand test’ to determine the difference between her ‘left’ and ‘right,’ the entire experience was deceptively uneventful.
At least I have my fucking doctor’s note. I had to go to the ghetto to get it, but sure as shit, here it is!
I was reminded today what it is like to be the minority and I think it was a valuable experience.