I think today was one of the most typically military days I've had in a long time, one that showcases just what military life is really like.  I woke up when my husband's alarm went off and realized that I was going to have to take him to the clinic when he hacked and coughed and registered a low-grade fever.  He called for an appointment.  A couple of hours later, we were on our way.  I dropped him and his eight-inch stack of medical records off at the clinic door, went to the library to pick up some reserve items and came back to the clinic.

As soon as I walked in the door, holding my library book, I realized I was in for "one of those days".  Apparently the clinic is undergoing yet another round of construction, which caused the removal of two rows of chairs in the pharmacy area - the very place I'd planned to sit and wait for my husband.  While this may have helped the construction crew, it did not help the 20 people (I counted) who were forced to stand and wait for their prescriptions.  Many of these people were obviously retirees and some of them were not really physically able to stand for long periods of time.

 I could see no sign of my husband, so I strolled the halls and looked for him, with no luck.  I returned to the pharmacy area.  Apparently there was some type of problem, because a staff member was there, reminding patients to fill out yellow cards - whatever they were.  I found a spot toward the back of the crowd and leaned against the wall, hoping to start reading my library book.  Just then, the woman standing next to me said, "Weren't you stationed in Italy?"

Why, yes, I was, so I looked at her more closely and realized I knew her from our two-year stint at Sixth Fleet.  I couldn't recall her name, but she was gracious enough to remind me of it.  I remembered her children very well and was shocked to see how grown-up they look now.  (Unlike me, she's with it enough to carry pictures.)  We caught up on things we'd done and places we'd lived during the last three years, swapped addresses and said goodbye. 

I started to scan the hallways for my husband's silhouette.  Just then, a gentleman standing nearby commented on how long he had been waiting for his prescription.  I replied, and he launched into a discussion of pharmacy services at various military clinics and hospitals in the area.  It turned out that he was married to a military retiree and had visited nearly every military treatment facility within driving distance of my home.

My husband finally arrived, explained that he had a take-a-ticket number for his prescription pick-up already, gave me his ID card (you can't pick up a prescription without the recipient's ID card) and went to drop off his records.  My new friend talked about duty stations, public transit and all kinds of other subjects while we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  By the time my husband's prescription was ready, I had been standing for over an hour.  The number of other people, still mostly retirees, standing nearby had dwindled to 15, but to me, that number was still high.  I saw one young soldier sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, clearly worn out and frustrated.  I'm sure my own mother-in-law could not stand for that long.  No one else should have to, either.

I had to sign some extra forms, so I was asked to step back and wait a few more minutes for my husband's medications to be labelled.  Time passed fairly quickly because my new acquaintance had a lot to say about public transit maintenance and those annoying plastic grocery bags.  (I've lived in Europe three times and cannot understand why we can't charge for grocery bags - I guarantee people will stop throwing most of them away if they pay five cents for each one - so I was on board with his ideas.)

By the time I had my paper bag full of medicine bottles, my husband had dropped off the final folder.  We said farewell to our new friend and headed to the car.  13 people still stood waiting for prescriptions.  I was annoyed by this fact.  My knees and hip joints bothered me all afternoon because I had spent over 1 1/2 hours standing in one place.  I'd reconnected with an old friend, someone I met on another continent, and met a new one.  I was frustrated with the clinic's construction and happy that my husband had a same-day diagnosis and treatment plan.  The day was only half over, but it was so completely, typically military that I knew I'd be writing about it when I got home.

Free medical care is good, but not always completely convenient.  We ditch our plans to care for our loved ones.  Old friends are around every corner.  There's always someone with a good story to tell.  This is military life, one day at a time.