I’m alive and – get this – well!!

But I am exhausted. I sat on the couch for 1.5 hours building up the energy to open my laptop.

I have not-unsuccessfully completed my first workweek in Antigo! Amid the usual first days introductions to all the people (“Did you meet Janice yet?” I have no idea if I’ve met Janice yet. Janice, please acknowledge whether we’ve met. I will smile and nod at you until you acquiesce.), I managed to get hopelessly lost only once, and moderately lost* at least seventeen other times.

*moderately lost: the state of wandering around the building at a relatively fast clip, using only your eyes to scan the periphery and signage, and frequently choosing to loop through a different doorway in order to avoid making eye contact with the passerby a third time in an attempt to escape an offer of assistance served with a chuckle.

Day 1: Hunt of Horrors

My first morning involved a whirlwind tour of the largest-I’ve-ever-seen PT complex and fitness center, meeting the 30-strong rehab staff, then a jaunt through back corridors to the conference room for an interminable (er, 8 hour) day of policy review. The agenda for the day boasted numerous hospital officials who would tell us how wonderful it was we were to work for this organization, but that didn’t catch my attention as much as an item near the end of the day:

3:45 p.m. – Scavenger Hunt

I usually love scavenger hunts! But I’d never been placed on such a playing field for a hunt as this – a place where people lead you through tortuous byways, telling you, “This is a shortcut to the surgery center” as they sprint through stairwells and paralleling hallways. Jessica does not take shortcuts, due to risk of great peril to herself. Jessica has consistently failed standardized testing on Maps & Reference Materials. And on a fateful day in mid-May, Jessica was petrified of the 3:45 p.m. Scavenger Hunt staged in A.L. Hospital.

Thankfully, Jessica was seated next to Brittany, a new hire in the lab. Brittany and Jessica forged a whispered alliance (whispered because we were in the front row and the presenter was telling us about the sprinkler system) to tackle the hunt in tandem.
Fortunately, that alliance was never tested. Our presentation schedule was flip-flopped and instead, we heard about marketing and branding. Mind-numbing and eye-drying, but very low risk of becoming irretrievably lost in the bowels of a healthcare institution.

Guys. This is a 32-bed hospital. I am pitiful.

Day 2: Jessica gets hopelessly lost in the Imaging Department.

On Tuesday, I got to hang out in the rehab department and stare at computer screens while watching videos about hepatitis and fire extinguishers (not related). After building up my courage, I opted to circle the department a few times – mostly to ensure I wouldn’t get myself AND a patient lost that afternoon. I saw my first patient (and saw them out!) and gathered my things to leave for the day. I’d been let in to the employee entrance that morning and given the code, so I decided I’d try to find my way out of the entrance as well.

Therein lies the rub.

“Employee entrance” – no mention of exit. This was a point I’d failed to realize on my way into the building. I share this now in the hope that you will not fall into the same trap someday.

I smiled and nodded at the patients in the waiting room as I opened the door to the stairwell I was 72% sure I was to take; this number was handsomely bolstered by the fact that there were no other visible stairwell doors, but hospitals are tricky like that. I ambled down to the ground level, where I was met with two doors: a door with EMERGENCY EXIT emblazoned in large red letters, and a door leading into a previously unexplored corridor. For fear of setting off the aforementioned sprinkler system and a loudspeaker announcement of “The new girl got lost again”, I chose the corridor into the imaging department waiting area.

I leave work at the end of a workday. So do other people. In particular, the imaging department waitstaff leaves before 6 pm. And they lock the waiting area. Lock it with a portcullis, allowing those on the darkened side of the metal grate to have only a tantalizing peek at the exit signs and doors to the parking lot. I circled the waiting area purposefully (with what purpose? Making sure there were no straggler patients unassisted? Sending dust bunnies scurrying?), then returned to the stairwell and searched unsuccessfully for a third door hidden in the masonry. Then returned to the portcullis and purposeful circling. Back to the stairwell. Back into the waiting area.

Eventually, I admitted defeat and headed back up the stairs to use the patient exit, where I encountered my manager on the landing. I ate crow and sheepishly asked him to lead me to the parking lot. He obliged, leading me down the stairs and… through the emergency exit.
No alarms, just red cheeks.

🙂

Here’s to weeks of more doing, and a little less learning!