Geneva Go-Round: “Hospital Hindrance”

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(9-25)

 

 

Road access is something that those of us who have grown up in modernity often take for granted. Even when these paved, ponderous stretches of asphalt or concrete need maintenance due to weather fluctuations and traffic wear, there is generally some sort of workaround available. For a society that is constantly in motion, this convenience is one not to be denied without an excuse of natural disasters or safety concerns. Even then, we expect such interruptions to be brief, and well-managed.

 

But when navigating the distance between my rural neighborhood, and Geneva Hospital, this paradigm has literally been exploded, for more than a calendar year. I first encountered the difficult project underway in 2024, while heading north for a blood draw at the lab on-site. Still feeling somewhat sleepy due to fasting, I drove up Route 534, turned at the intersection in mid-town, with Main Street, and soon discovered a bevy of construction signs and barriers that had been erected. The appearance of stern, official warnings made my pulse quicken, and my hands turn clammy on the steering wheel.

 

HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KEEP MY APPOINTMENT FOR A MEDICAL RENDEZVOUS, WITHOUT GETTING LOST?

 

On that first occasion, I managed to deduce that one lane, on the wrong side of that roadway, was open for cars going in a westward direction. So, after bumping and bouncing over irregularities in what remained of the hard surface, I arrived at my intended destination. Then, upon leaving, continued out of my way, toward Madison. Only with a sideways glance while in transit did I look down West Street, a mysterious boulevard in personal terms. One crowded by more signage and equipment.

 

A conversation with one of my close friends from a street on the other side of this population center ensued soon afterward. She confirmed that turning left at that juncture would have been a better decision. But, on impulse, I had taken a lazy drive toward Lake County, instead. With a smile, she scolded me for not thinking through the situation more carefully.

 

“It would’ve taken you right to Route 84, Rodney! From there, you could have gone east or west, whatever was your best option!”

 

Sometime in that part of the year, my regular physician also relocated to the medical campus. A move that might have seemed logical and convenient, if not for the hindrance of bulldozers and earth-moving rigs that were busy tearing up the avenue. When it came time to have a check-up visit, I remembered the caveat about choosing a different course toward my healthcare provider. But upon reaching a back entrance, I saw arrows and admonitions about access being closed. This again bred confusion and befuddlement.

 

WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW? I NEEDED TO SEE MY DOCTOR!

 

With a tenacious hold on the steering wheel, I crept up to the edge of Main Street, saw that the access lane was temporarily empty, and backtracked to one of the front points of entry. Then spun my vehicle around, and hunted for a handicap parking space. All while attempting to catch my breath.

 

I could not help replaying scenes from the 1974 thriller ‘Killdozer’ in my head. A B-movie film, made-for-television, that starred Clint Walker. I feared being broadsided by one of these brutish tractors, while attempting to sneak into the hospital parking lot. Thankfully though, with enough courage summoned, I made the maneuver and got to honor my appointment, on time.

 

At some point, with more than a full year having passed in the rearview mirror, it seemed likely that this expensive project would have finally been completed. But as I headed toward Geneva, for another annual blood tapping, I realized that the dusty, dirty digging and reconstruction was still in progress. However, with an added impediment to complicate my arrival.

 

Detour signs for Route 84 were everywhere. And a partial barricade indicating blockage ahead, was situated by the Mapco station and plaza. This made me decide, without any plausible foundation of evidence, that Main Street must now be open, uptown. Yet predictably, when I paused at the traffic light by Rees Corner Store, and made my left-angle turn, more obstructions were waiting to halt my advance.

 

NOW WHAT? NOW WHAT? IF BOTH WAYS TO THE HOSPITAL ARE CLOSED, HOW CAN ANYBODY GET THERE AT ALL?

 

I veered left again, by the Circle K, then took a succession of side streets with the hope that one of them might offer a clue to this conundrum. But nothing looked familiar. Finally, in desperation, I happened to land across from the old Sohio fuel depot, which was now a repair garage. Arrows along the path indicated that I could roll in one direction only. Happily, this meant I could complete my trip, in just enough time to check-in at the laboratory.

 

I was huffing for breath when punching in vital statistics on a kiosk, inside. A woman with blue hair cheerfully invited me to sit in her exam chair, and the draw was accomplished without any further delay. My head was still spinning, while hobbling back to the SUV, with both disability canes. But this time, despite weaving around parked cars, security officers, and other equipment, I made a speedy exit from the facility.

 

A newspaper article about this long-term renovation had quoted an official who was involved as saying, “We realize it has been 17 months. We understand the interruption is a hardship for residents of this area...” Perhaps an understatement worthy of being noted with a gold star or a blue ribbon. Or even a recycled bowling trophy. Still, I recognized two side benefits to my dismay and confusion over getting where I needed to go, in a timely manner.

 

First, I was able to see parts of the city that lay hidden before. Acres of home turf that I normally passed without giving notice. And the other, perhaps even more important benefit, was in using my cerebral synapses in an exercise to stimulate brain health. An activity that my own doctor might have recommended, if called upon to provide a regimen of good habits.

 

I do hope to eventually visit the familiar outpost, on some future occasion, without being herded left and right, and backwards, for my trouble. Yet in the interim, I will keep both hands on the wheel. And my eyes scanning dutifully for warnings and advisories, wherever they may appear.