A visit to records
I walked into the ultra modern lobby of the building that housed the medical records for my pulmonologist. The shiny new, brightly lit, stainless steel lined elevator whipped me quickly to the floor that the offices were located.
As the elevator stopped and I waited for the door to open, rather than the door in front of me opening, doors that I did not realize that were behind me opened in to a large dimly lit room that seemed to have taken me back into another time or dimension.
Unlike the ultra modern feel of every part of the building I already experienced, this large office was lined at the top half of the wall with a dark green wall paper framed below by dark wood wall paneling.
In front of me was a desk of equally matching dark wood, behind which sat no one. In the place where a person usually sat was a sign instructing me to fill out a request form for what records I needed.
I took a form, already placed in a clipboard and sat at the only chair that existed in the vast open room.
At the bottom of the form was the instruction to ring the bell at the desk where I got the clipboard. I did as I was instructed and pressed the button, expecting to hear the electronic ring of a doorbell letting whom ever know that I was out here, but there was nothing. No sound. So I stood at the empty desk in the vast empty, dimly lit room and watched toward the only other access to the room other than the elevator – a brightly lit corridor that exited at a peculiar angle to the room.
From my vantage point I could see down the corridor for about fifteen feet, and then it emerged. A long shadow of a person blazed across the entire length of the corridor wall and slowly moved towards the doorway of the room I was in, the effect resembling a scene from a science fiction movie where the alien approaches to kill and devour the last surviving relic of the human race.
The long shadow finally was followed by a woman of unequal stature, jolly, beaming and helpful. She told me to take a seat in the one lone chair, took my form back down the corridor as I watched her elongated shadow stay against the wall as she continued to where ever she originated, then disappear.
Five minutes after, the shadow returned, followed by the lady carrying a manilla envelope with everything I requested, apologizing for keeping me waiting because her computer required a reboot in order for her to fulfill my request.
For a brief moment I though that maybe time had jumped and I did not realize, but time is always relevant to the person that is watching the clock, and it was only five minutes.
I thanked her, took the shiny elevator back down to the ultra modern lobby, exited the building and returned to what was my reality.