I often lose my way, which I’ve written about quite a bit. But I don’t often actually lose my car! Really only once before, when the first snow of the season covered it at the airport park & jet while I was away. The valet driver had to go round and round the parking lot before I spotted it, but really there was no harm done.
This recent lost car incident began innocent enough, with my daughter telling me to leave a trail of crumbs in my wake to find my way around the magnificent, huge, new cancer centre in Calgary. She well knows my propensity for getting lost. I had been given detailed instructions about turns and parkades, about the necessary donning of masks and gowns for the isolation room. My friend was very precise when I drove to Calgary to visit her – she knows me well, too! I got there and parked okay, although I felt a bit turned around and stunned that the Foothills Hospital is so incredibly large now. It was a thought that made me grateful – I haven’t had anyone to visit in hospital for all the years it took to build the new cancer centre (knock wood).
We had a lovely visit and then I proceeded to get lost trying to find my car. Many laps around the fancy parkade later, during which I kept crossing paths with the other people who were also lost (I hope they eventually got out!), a volunteer who took me on for 20 minutes decided to call security. Two highly capable fellows escorted me around for a bit. Finally one of them asked if I still had the parking ticket I purchased when I first arrived and a glance at it told him we were actually wondering around in a different parkade than the one I had parked in all that time ago. They walked me to the next building over (fresh air! I felt so free) and there it was, the familiar little lobby with the pay machines exactly as I had described them, the little turn and far down the straightaway sat my old car. When we got near enough that the lights responded to my key fob, I sang out a song of praise and wanted to kiss the ground.
The two security guards assured me it happens a lot at the new cancer centre parkades. I was so happy to sit down in my car – I had walked the parkade for twice as long as I had visited my friend. So, when you’re not used to the huge expansions in the city, the new impressive cancer centre in particular, take it to heart when you see the sign at the elevators saying ‘take a photo of where you are parked’. I saw the sign but also saw the yellow paint telling me I was in area 6010. Apparently the entire parkade is situated in area 6010, though, and by the time I was turned around and tired, I had no idea if I had read the letters in yellow, orange, purple or a number of other choices of colours.
Visiting a medical facility of any kind can feel slightly alarming to begin with, so take a photo and take the puzzle out of finding our way home. Or at least let us leave sufficient crumbs to follow our path back. It is reassuring , though, to know that if you do arrive at the cancer centre you will be well looked after – both inside and out.