By Melitta Anderman
I dedicate this piece to our neighborhood CityMD Urgent Care facility.
Planning a trip has its ups and downs. For us, seasoned travelers, packing is a chore that doesn’t come lightly. Why do some people know exactly what clothes to take, appropriate for the weather to come? But since the weather is a big mystery these days, I will be forgiven if my choice is incorrect at times. Nevertheless, the struggle continues.
Yes? No? The in-flight choices are easy. The most comfortable stretchy pants, little slippers, subdued makeup (no makeup is too scary for the flight crew), extra wide scarf, a favorite book reread ten times so I won’t strain my brain. Also, hand wipes for touchable surfaces, travel-size cologne to diffuse undesirable whiffs, and so it goes. Until the day of departure. One last look, but my suitcase has a forlorn look, it’s crying for another addition just in case. I’m traveling to modern cities where the “just in case” can be replenished, but I feel more at ease knowing I’ve given in to my addiction.
It’s two hours to go before the scheduled pickup for the airport jaunt. A wee call from the other room alerts me to a possible disaster. My beloved has mistakenly, in the process of cutting sealing strips for the luggage, managed to dispose of some much needed skin on his finger, leaving a good-sized gash which is now gushing blood nonstop. I immediately call our doctor who says we must go to emergency care. We throw on our sweats, get a cab and go to CityMD Urgent Care on 67th Street and Third.
I explain our plight to the receptionist who gets us to see the first available doctor. They take him into the office and I wait outside. I’m mentally making a new plan B. Cancellation insurance call, no turkey, no guests, no nothing. I could have been in Los Angeles with family, but here I am.
My husband comes out, fixed up by the terrific doctor who squeezed some medical miracle foam into his finger that will pull the skin together. Voila! We zoom home in another cab, get dressed for the trip. My plan B is discarded. My superstitious mind is conjuring the thought that maybe this was a warning not to go, but I don’t have time for these usual indulgences. My husband will have to change the bandage daily, though he is an expert since his medicine cabinet is filled with every size Band-Aid and first aid accessory.
Our trip runs its smooth cycle on our holiday vacation to Vienna and Berlin.
Thank you again, Urgent Care. But I did miss the pre-parade balloon blow-ups on the West Side, the parade and Mr. Turkey (I’ll get you next year, promise).