So the hospital lost my Mom's boobs. Well, technically not her ACTUAL boobs. I am pretty sure those are still attached to her chest. They did, however, lose her mammogram. For three months. THREE MONTHS!
You know what else they did? They sent someone else's films to her doctor. Her cousin's films to be exact. Yes they have the same name - spelled differently. You know what they don't have? The same birth date or social security number. Details, I guess.
So when they finally found her boobs, they proceeded to tell her there was a problem. She needed to get checked out again. Good thing there was that three month gap in time when her boobs were lost, right? I mean, if there was something really wrong, wouldn't you want three months worth of TREATMENT and not someone else's films? Mom told me that the hospital was pointing the fingers at the film place and they were pointing their fingers back at the hospital. "Don't worry," I said, "I will point fingers at both of them in my lawsuit." After all, what is the point of having a lawyer in the family, if you can't sue someone?
Then they put my Mom through that tortuous test. You know, the one that makes your boobs turn into pancakes? Again. Except they only had to do one, so she had one pancake and one apple. How's that for a visual? It kept her laughing even days later when she was still in pain and declaring "THEY BROKE MY BOOB."
All's well that ends well. Her boobs are fine. They are still on her chest. And last I heard, they are both apples now.
But I've still got my eye, and my fingers, on that hospital.