Those of us who come for radiation daily receive a parking permit, so we can park in assigned spaces for patients near the special entrance to the department. There are six designated spaces.
A week ago, they were all filled, which struck me as odd; because I know there is rarely six patients at one time in the department. It also meant I had to drive around looking for a non-designated spot. I’m able bodied, so it wasn’t really a big deal.
But it was. I’ve seen patients in the department on oxygen, on walkers, and in wheelchairs. It’s reasonable for them to need parking near the entrance. And it’s reasonable for the spaces to be available.
For fun, last week I checked to see if the cars in all the spaces had the requisite permit. Only one did. I filed this away and decided to check the next day. When the same thing happened, I told the woman who staffs the sign-in desk in the department. “We have this problem all the time,” she said. “We call Security, but nothing gets done.”
Then and there I became a parking vigilante, seeking justice against rudeness, thoughtlessness, and laziness. J, the lady who staffs the sign-in desk, made me a calendar; and now I give her a report every day I come. Today, for instance, all six spaces were filled and only one had a permit.
By the end of February, when my treatments are over, there could be enough data for Security to become more pro-active. Because if I ever have to return to radiation oncology in the future, I’d like a parking space.
You go girl!