Trapped

    What I kept meaning to say, either here or on Facebook, is that it's kind of sad that I never see anyone else taking the stairs at the Heart Hospital. Maybe now I know why.
    I took Margaret to see Dad this afternoon, then took the stairs back down like I always do. When I got down to the Atrium (ground floor) level, I tried the door to the corridor and found it locked. So I went back and tried the door to the stairs I'd just come from and it was locked, too. The other door had a sign saying "Emergency Door-- Alarm Will Sound." There were also stairs leading down, but since I was already on the ground floor, I didn't feel any strong incentive to explore the basement.
    I had my cell and even though I was in a fire tower, the facility's WiFi meant that I had phone service. In another minute, I was going to call the front desk and request rescue, but I heard people in the corridor and banged on the door and asked them please to open it. They did. So not much of a tale of deadly peril, I'll admit, but I was surprisingly amped on adrenaline. Mainly, how crazy is that? How American is that that so few people use the stairs that it seems like a good idea to lock the doors ever, at all? Glad for the happy ending, of course!
    The cardiologist doesn't work on weekends or Dad no doubt would be home already. As it is, he'll probably be going home tomorrow or Tuesday, the only logistical complication being his dialysis Tuesday. But he's lots better, more or less back to normal. So yaaaay!