Someone taught me new vocabulary. Not day. A not day is one in which whatever you planned does not happen.

My Friday not day started with on my right knee. I had an MRI scheduled for 8:15 a.m. I arrived at 8:05 a.m. I was required to fill out a couple of forms that asked for basic information such as my name and address continuing to a summarization of my previous health procedures. After that I was moved to another waiting room farther into the depths of the building.

The room had five people and one blasted operating television. Each person was called from the room for a procedure leaving me and Kelly and Michael Live disrupting my quiet time with my book. Shortly after I changed the station to something less distracting a woman came into the room and said with obvious puzzlement, “Linda Johnson? But you’re not hear for a brain scan.”

“Um, no!” I told her it was supposed to be for my knee. She told me to sit tight until she could find the orders and then she went on…

…looking at the papers I had filled out in the lobby, “You have a bone growth stimulator?”

“Yes, in my back.”

“We can’t do an MRI if you have that.”

“I’ve had two other MRIs since I’ve had this put in. One for my other knee and one for my left shoulder.”

“Maybe they were open MRIs.”

“Ohhh, no, they weren’t. Especially the last one.”

She gathered more information from me as to when the stimulator was put in my back, which hospital and which doctor. She said she’d make some calls.

Soon she was back saying the hospital didn’t have the records available going back that far and the doctor’s office had updated the computers in the twelve years since the original surgery, so they didn’t have access to that information either. They did say that what was being used in 2003 would definitely not be compatible with an MRI machine.

Peggy, the woman trying to work through the lack of records to get me my MRI suggested that I leave and she would continue to gather information and we would subsequently reschedule. I agreed and moved on to my second task of the day wondering if medical professionals shouldn’t have a brain scan scheduled.

I drove to Beavercreek to get to an Office Max that I had called early in the week to make sure what time frame was needed to print a book for me.

My husband and I had been in the store in Springfield the previous Sunday. I had asked an employee in the copy center whether they had an espresso printing machine. He told us Springfield did not but the store near the Fairfield Commons did. Okay.

I backed up the information he gave by calling the store and was told yes, they could do what I wanted and it would only take 20 to 30 minutes. Wow! That was fast.

I wasn’t quite done putting my book together but worked diligently on it during the rest of the week until Friday, the day before I needed it.

I took my computer and a fresh thumb drive to the store. There were two employees at the copy center and two customers standing at the perimeter. I was in no hurry.

After watching a few minutes, I knew that one of the employees was really new at this job. He seemed uncertain and asked his co-worker a lot of questions. He rarely smiled.

After 20 minutes, it was my turn and it was the new employee who tried to wait on me.

He may have been new, but at least he knew that there was no espresso machine on the premises.

“WHAT! but I was told…”

David, the new employee, turned to Matthew to back him up, which Matthew did. But Matthew also had a solution. If I could be flexible. Matthew aimed to keep the customer happy.

Matthew explained his resolution to both David and me. I agreed. Then Matthew explained to David what information to get from me and left the area.

Partially because he was new and partially because I’m Mac (computer) there were complications so David kept using the store intercom to contact Matthew.

I asked him how long he worked at Office Max. “Three days,” he answered with a timid smile. (Ah, ha! he had one.) I commented, trying to make him more at ease, that he has a nice smile. He rewarded me with another one — a little warmer.

All the information needed was exchanged. When could I pick it up? They would put it on a fast track and have it for me just before they close at 9 p.m.

That meant another round trip to Beavercreek, but at least I would have my book.

I arrived at home to discover a message from Peggy. She was unable to glean any more information about my bone growth stimulator. She offered to take an X-ray of my back to see if it’s there. (I know it’s there, why can’t she just take my word for it?). I offered to drive back to Springfield after being assured that she would just include the X-ray cost as part of the MRI cost. (We are at the beginning of our medical insurance year. I haven’t put a dent in my $4,000 deductible, so the MRI was out of MY pocket.)

I ended up making one more round trip to Springfield where (SUPRISE!) X-rays show there is a bone growth stimulator in my back. No one will do an MRI on my knee until that instrument is taken out of my back.

And, I made one more round trip to Beavercreek where after a few more minutes of waiting, I picked up 25 copies of my self-published first book, Champaign Taste.

Since we were right next door to Half-Priced Books, Husband wanted to go in. (Hey, that’s usually my line.) We went in, he found what he was looking for, we left.

“That’s a first. I came out of a book store with nothing and you bought a book,” I said to him.

Obviously it was just not for me that day.