TB tests

I tried to register for classes last week, but the University had thoughtfully put a hold on my student account because my TB skin test had expired. I was aware of this fact because I had ignored the six emails reminding me. I figured they had nothing on me because I was graduating. Stupid new degree ruined my well laid plans. I was supposed to go see my doctor for the test. This posed a minor problem. I don't have a "regular doctor", partly because I don't like going to the doctor, and partly because I refuse to acknowledge I live in Minnesota and having a steady doctor seems like an admission of guilt.

The only place that could squeeze me in was the community health clinic. The address wasn't in the part of town with the least amount of bars on the windows, but I figured my odds of getting shot at were low since it was early morning. Plus I am very intimidating. The lobby was pretty crowded. Two large women were arguing loudly about who had arrived first and thus who would get the earlier appointment. A man was rocking back and forth on the floor talking to himself. It got pretty quiet when I walked in the room; I assume it was my dashing good looks and had little to do with being the only Caucasian appearing female in the whole clinic. They looked me up and down, then went back to yelling. The check-in lady was Somalian, and she did not speak English well. I am American, and do not speak Somalian well. This posed a problem.

"I want a TB skin test."

"Form." She handed me a post-it note with name, address, and phone written on it. I dug a pen out of my purse, filled out the post-it, and tried again.

"I want a TB skin test."

"Meed need sure."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Meed need sure." Then she said something in Somalian.

"Ummmm...."

"NAME," she yelled. Apparently she was saying middle initial and was frustrated that I couldn't understand her accent. I haven't been yelled at for speaking English since I was in Prague.