What this hospital needs is transparency!

[ Entry written after the fact and retro-published to the date of occurrence. ]

I'm on my back on this high-speed gurney, flying through the hospital.

The transporter guy yells, "Bump!" And we hit a bump.

"Three little bumps!" And we hit three little bumps.

"Uh-oh—BIG bumps!" And we hit really BIG bumps—still at high speed.

I'm thinking: Who wrote their transport process?

The people are as friendly and courteous as they can possibly be—and it is really nice of them to tell me that we're about to hit bumps—but I can't help but wonder why the person who wrote their Be-Friendly-And-Tell-The-Patient-About-Bumps Policy never considered that slowing down over the bumps might be a good idea.

The friendly transporter parks my gurney in what he calls the "stress lab", asks someone to sign a form, and then disappears.

A nurse resembling the short lady from Poltergeist appears with a needle and some straps.

"Mr. Arledge?" She asks.

"Yes."

"You're late! You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

"It wasn't my fault."

"I know. It's those transporters again."

Three other nurses appear beside her and speak in unison. "We don't like them."

"Is this all part of my stress test?" I ask.

The group responds. "No. Our old transporters were terminated. The hospital is outsourcing now. The transporters are not part of our team. We don't like them."

"What you guys need is someone to help you communicate better—so that you all can function as one team, seeing and understanding what dependent departments are doing at all times. Perhaps, I can help?"

"No, Mr. Arledge. We are here to help you."

They begin strapping me to my gurney and rolling one of those intravenous feeder contraptions near my head.

"How will you help me?"

"Our job is to stress you, and then test you."

I assume that I have already completed the "stress you" part.

I am very mistaken.