Today I was scheduled to get a CT-scan of my abdomen and pelvis to show my doctor whether or not the kidney stone has left the building. I was scheduled at the radiology department at Northridge Hospital at 11 a.m., and my cousin Kirsten kindly came with me.

Our plan for the day was to get the scan, then grab some lunch and head over to Living Spaces, where I had printouts of three specific auto-reclining loveseats and a plan to buy one of them and have it delivered by Saturday so that I can watch TV in an appropriate legs-up position, perhaps thereby helping my swelling. We have both been talking about the need for this for months, and today was going to be the day.

The plan was also for Kirsten to drive, but we discovered I am unable to throw my left leg up into my car or down into hers on the passenger side, so I hopped around to the other door and drove myself, and she came along to assist—and a good thing she did. She was able to let me out at the entrance with my walker, and then jump into the driver’s seat (moved way up for Shortie’s legs) to go park the car while I made my halting progress to the administration desk to check in.

We arrived in plenty of time; they had asked us to come at 11:00 for an 11:30 scan. We sat for a while until a nurse came out and asked me how much I weigh. I told her I wasn’t exactly sure but could give her a ballpark number, which she wrote down. We waited a little longer, while the nurse went into the back room to talk to the tech; then the nurse came out and escorted me down the hall and around the corner to a scale, where she weighed me. After that, we returned to the radiology waiting room and…waited. The nurse talked to the tech some more, then the tech went to talk to someone else, and finally the nurse came out to me and said, They think you weigh too much for our machine, because you are over the top limit for which it is rated.

At this point Kirsten spoke up and said, Um, she had a scan on this exact machine two weeks ago Sunday, so what’s the problem all of a sudden? This caused a flurry of activity, with the nurse looking up my records from the week of my admittance and operation/recuperation, then showing them to the tech, then showing them to the other guy. At this point, the nurse came out and said, They still think you weigh too much; and she went to lunch.

We kept waiting. Finally, at about 1:15, the tech and the manager of the radiology department came out to me and said that in the interim between my last test and this one, in two weeks, I had gained 12 pounds. I explained that I have severe lymphedema, and my weight can fluctuate as much as 50 lbs. in any given week as the fluid comes and goes through my system, and that I had no control over it. They were understanding and sympathetic, but the bottom line was, I was 12 pounds too heavy for their equipment and they weren’t going to risk putting me on the moving bed, for fear it wouldn’t move.

What am I supposed to do, then? I asked them. Surely I’m not the first person at this weight who has come for a scan. The answer was, their machine is old, but some of the newer ones are rated for 300 pounds more than I weigh, and I needed to seek out one of those.

I said, Look, it is extremely challenging for me to do what I did today, all for this appointment. No one asked me up front about my weight, which they should have done, so my feeling is that you need to seek out another scanner on my behalf, and then call whoever it is and see if they will scan me today, while I’m vertical, dressed, and out in the world.

Fortunately they agreed, so they sent me to Valley Presbyterian where, they told me, the scanner maximum capacity is higher. They led me to believe that I could just walk in and get the scan done; one of them said he had called and the radiology department wasn’t that busy today. So Kirsten and I rolled back down to the exit, she fetched the car, and we headed off for Valley Pres.

Once there, the receptionist at the information desk first gave us a phone number for Renaissance, the independent testing labs built adjacent to the hospital, but after we listened to seven cycles of their hold music/sales pitch, we found out they didn’t have a machine at the right capacity. So we went back to the desk, where another employee had taken over, and told him we needed the scanner in the hospital’s radiology department, and he sent us to Admin to get admitted so we could get an appointment.

After half an hour of paperwork and waiting, the radiology department said they had three people from the emergency room ahead of me, but I was welcome to come down and get in line. They sent a guy with a wheelchair, since navigating the halls from admin to radiology would have taken me an hour and five rest stops, and then we sat there from 2:30 to 4:30, at which point I was ready to give up, go home, and crawl into bed.

Kirsten said Hey, you’re not the only one who went without food all day (this was a “fasting” test, which would have been fine at 11 a.m., but we were getting a bit peckish almost six hours later!) and put up with this BS, and I don’t think we should call this day an utter waste—let’s wait it out. Fortunately, at 4:45 they came to get me, and about eight minutes later it was done.

Oh, and the scanner? Same machine as the one they have at Northridge Hospital. I told Ryan, the tech who did the scan, about my morning, and he said “Say no more. The manager there used to be the manager here.” In other words, they could have done the scan at 11:30 and we would have been noshing on Mexican food and buying a sofa 20 minutes later. Instead, we headed back to my house at 5:00; Kirsten did a few quick tasks for me (tomorrow is trash day), then went home to make dinner for her mom, who wasn’t feeling well and had been alone all day.

I, meanwhile, changed into my PJs and splurged on a DoorDash delivery in front of the TV. No new sofa for me, all because of 12 pounds.