Two ends, one shaped for a USB port - that’s easy, fits into my computer in the hole with the matching picture over it - and one shaped like a square with rounded edges at the top. Hmm, that must be the printer side. I moved my hands around the back of the printer, trying to find the glass slipper to the silver foot at the end of the cord.
After collecting enough dust to let a dust bunny retire early, I pushed the square-ish peg in the square-ish hole, completing the connection to my laptop. I sat crosslegged on the floor in front of the screen, my elbow angled just far enough from the edge of the shelves I’d pushed away from the wall to reveal the outlet behind them. All I had to do then was click print and I’d be in business. Maybe click it twice, just for good measure. I looked at the silent, unmoving printer with mounting frustration, willing it to do its job, but to no avail. Clearly it hated me. I proceeded through each of the tricks I could think of, fudging names and numbers when necessary, but still nothing. Finally giving up (a whopping ten minutes later, fifteen maybe), I sighed and started to scroll down the pdf on the screen: “The Children’s Hospital Volunteer Application”.
I got some good advice from my aunt after writing about my anxieties surrounding starting to work again: she said to try some part time volunteer positions. That way I can get back into a structured atmosphere, possibly even in an office setting, without the stresses of a full time job. It’s a way for me to dip my toes in the water and swirl them around a bit so I can be sure I know when it’s time to dive in. So I read through the application and decided to just drive over to the hospital and apply in person. Maybe that way I could be seen by someone rather than just mailing in a printed out application with saliva on the back of the envelope and a crooked stamp on the front.
The Denver Children’s Hospital is somewhere between and five and ten minute drive from my place, and would probably equate to a twenty minute to half hour walk on nice days or when I had the time. The street in front of the hospital didn’t have any parking meters, so I hopped out of my car and walked purposefully through the revolving door and to the front desk. The front desk happened to be a security desk guarding the space between the hospital on the right and an eating disorder clinic on the left. Taking off my sunglasses, I cheerfully stated that I would like to apply for a volunteer position and inquired as to where I might do that.
“The main campus. In Aurora.”
The main Children’s Hospital campus in Aurora is a thirty minute drive from my place in minimal traffic. I looked at the digital clock on my phone and saw that I had exactly an hour and a half before pilates. Okay, then, Aurora it is, I thought.
And the drive was as long and exasperating as I’d dreamed, hitting every red light on eight miles of Colfax. My foot itched on the break each time I glanced at the arrival estimate on my Garmin GPS navigator and saw it readjust farther and farther away from the time on the clock below it. I thought of the times I’d had athlete’s foot as a kid.
My hands tapped on the steering wheel as I looked for a parking place; my shoes tapped against the tile floor as I made my way through the lobby; my breath tapped quickly in my chest as I opened the door to the volunteer office. “Hi, I’d like to apply to be a volunteer”, I offered almost as cheerily as the first time.
I was handed an envelope with a printed out version of the online application. I should hear back at some time in the future, hopefully.
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