Today had me heading over to Walgreens' walk in clinic. I've got a slight boo boo on my foot that I needed tending to and it wasn't anything that I needed to hit the doctor for. A nurse with a good book on "For bump A, apply salve B" was all that was required.
I've been here a few times and truly think that these little walk in clinics are a godsend. I don't need the $250+ visit for a scratch / scrape / rash. Most of those things I can take care of myself, but alas this particular boo boo wasn't getting any better so I wanted to double check that I was taking care of it the right way.
The nurse looks at my foot, types a few things into the computer, and tells me to do X, Y, and Z. I figured that was the end of it, but no – vitals needed to be taken since the toe is connected to the heart & lungs some how. She took my pulse and my temperature, then the blood pressure cuff came out, and finally she grabbed her stethoscope to check to make sure I had a heartbeat and was breathing (gotta be on the lookout for zombies, I guess).
She lifted the front of my shirt and listened. She then lifted the side of my shirt, whacked my Glock with the stethoscope (which kind of got lodged twixt the slide and my body), and proceeded to listen to my back. Pulled down my shirt, and continued filling out her forms and asking questions.
Now, the moment she lifted my shirt the first time, I braced for the inevitable. This would have been the first time I'd have encountered someone finding my firearm that I knew of. I was prepared to discuss why I had it, that I wasn't law enforcement, etc. However, there was nothing. Had she not had to tug on the stethoscope slightly to get it out from the slide, I'd have sworn she hadn't seen it but she clearly had interacted with it (safely, it's not like it had gotten stuck or anything) and yet not a word was said, nor did she act as if she was in a hurry or bothered. In fact, I spent a good 7 or 8 minutes more in there while she explained the intricate details of my condition.
I really didn't expect that at all. Don't get me wrong, that's exactly how life should be. My carrying a firearm should be of no concern to anyone. If seen, it shouldn't raise an eyebrow or cause any more consternation than if it was a PDA or Leatherman. I'm just accustomed to stories of health care professionals and other various people freaking the hell out over the thought of a gun. But this lady, if she had any opinion whatsoever, simply went about her job as she should have.
Odd that I was instantly prepared for discussion, positive or negative. I totally wasn't prepared for nothing.