LOL OMG I received a message from my doctor's office. "Please call this number to schedule an important medical procedure." Simple enough, right? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Oh, you sweet summer child. So I called the number. "Thank you for calling! Before we can assist you, please provide your full name, date of birth, mother's maiden name, Social Security number, the name of your first pet, and factor the following polynomial." I sighed. I provided the information, demonstrated my mastery of high-school algebra, and successfully identified three traffic lights in a CAPTCHA. Yes. Over the phone. I have some interesting talents. Shut up. "I'm sorry, ma'am. You've reached the wrong department. You'll need to call this other number." "Okay, can you transfer me?" "No." CLICK. I stared at the phone. THUD. That was my forehead hitting the desk. I called the second number. "Thank you for calling! Your call is very important to us." This is a lie. My call is obviously as important to them as a mosquito's opinion on zoning regulations. After navigating a telephone menu designed by a committee of sadistic escape-room enthusiasts, I was transferred to another department. "Before we can assist you, please provide your name, date of birth, address, phone number, and the name of your father's brother's former roommate." "Dark Helmet." "Excuse me?" "Never mind." I provided the information again, along with what I believe was the launch code for a decommissioned Soviet missile silo. "How can I help you?" "I NEED TO SCHEDULE A MEDICAL PROCEDURE." "Oh! Well, we can't do that until the biopsy nurse approves it." "Okay. How long does that take?" "I don't know." "Can you find out?" "Well, she's on vacation." Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. A tumbleweed rolled across my living room. THUD. My forehead met the desk again. They were becoming quite intimate. "Okay." I said, demonstrating the sort of patience usually associated with Buddhist monks and people who have been heavily sedated. "Is there perhaps ANOTHER nurse who can approve it?" "No." "Nobody?" "Nope!" "So you're telling me that an entire medical scheduling process, at what I assume is a multimillion-dollar healthcare organization, depends on ONE PERSON who is currently on vacation?" "Yes, ma'am!" I could practically hear the cheerful smile. "Well, what am I supposed to do?" "We'll call you back!" Ah. WE'LL CALL YOU BACK. Four words that have joined the great pantheon of polite ways to tell someone to commit a reproductive act with oneself, along with old classics like: "The check is in the mail." "Your call is important to us." "A representative will be with you shortly." "It works on MY computer." I have worked in IT long enough to recognize a catastrophic single point of failure when I encounter one. Apparently, the American healthcare system (or my small corner of it) has implemented a critical production service called BiopsyApproval, deployed it on a single human being, configured no failover, established no redundancy, and then allowed the entire infrastructure to go on vacation. If I designed a production system like this, somebody would drag me into a conference room and beat me to death with a copy of the disaster recovery plan. But in healthcare? "She's on vacation! We'll call you back!" So now I have a new hobby. Every morning, I shall rise with the sun, enjoy my coffee, and call the medical scheduling department. "Good morning! It's me again!" "Ma'am, we told you we'd call you back." "YES, AND I TOLD YOU I NEED TO SCHEDULE A BIOPSY. LOOK AT US BOTH." Today was the 2nd day of this. By Thursday, I expect to know everyone in the department by name. By Friday, I will be asking about their children. By Monday, I intend to have memorized the hold music and developed a personal vendetta against the composer. Eventually, somebody will schedule my procedure, if only to stop me from calling. In the meantime, I have decided to wear a bicycle helmet whenever I use the telephone. At this rate, by the time they finally get around to examining this busted ass piece of my body to find out if it's going to kill me or not, I'm going to need a neurologist. And God help me if THAT requires a referral.