Surrealism in action

What I’m about to describe to you may be a Southern phenomenon, or it may be nationwide. Either way, it’s one of the more bizarre things that have ever happened to me. Since bizarre is what my blog is all about, I thought I’d “share” with the rest of you.

On November 15, I had eye surgery to correct an uncontrolled hemorrhage in my left retina. Since the surgeon was going in to do that, he decided to remove the immature cataract that’s been causing me fits for several months and implant a lens. All well and good. Being a diabetic, I would normally be scheduled for surgery first thing in the morning so I could go back home and eat, but noooo. Because I have been colonized with MRSA, they wanted me to be the last patient in the OR that day. That makes perfect sense from an infection control point of view but not eating from midnight until late into the following afternoon makes LadyDoc a very cranky girl.

I reported to the “day hospital” at 11:00 short of temper, short of nourishment and short of hydration. While checking in at the registration desk, the young lady said “And who is here with you today?’, and I replied ‘Just me”. Incredulity on her part, “No family, no friends?” Which part of just me did you not understand, I thought. “No, I came by myself”. “Well you have to have someone to drive you home, you know.” Yes, thank you, as it happens I haven’t driven a car in over five years so the thought had occurred to me that I would need to arrange transportation, but thanks for pointing that out. (You can see how LD”s mind works when she’s not in a good mood.) “Yes, I know, there will be someone here to pick me up and take me home”, I tried to reassure her. “It has to be somebody responsible” she responds. You think so? I thought I’d entrust myself to my four-year-old grandson.

I go sit down in the waiting area to wait for my name to be called. The place is jam-packed with people. I’m thinking to myself that these can’t possibly be patients if I have the last surgery slot of the day. Otherwise, we’ll all be sitting here until midnight. A nurse comes out and speaks to one of the assembled masses and fully one third of the seats are instantly vacated. Ah, family members. Then another nurse comes to get another group of family members and another pack trudges off. The cycle repeats one more time until I am alone with my thoughts.

My name is called and I go back to the prep area. The nurse looks behind me and asks “Should we wait for your family?” Very nice of you to ask, but no. We’ll be waiting until the 12th of Neveruary. “No, that’s okay, I’m here by myself”. And the whole routine starts over again. Back in the prep area, I sign the consent forms and all the other paperwork. The nurse anesthetist comes in, asks me a barrage of questions and says “We’re about to sedate you, would you like to have a family member with you?” Oh for heaven’s sake. I get the idea about having a support person for these things, even though I don’t have one. But for the love of Pete, it’s surgery, not a spectator sport. I half expect to see a patient wheeled by with someone trailing behind them with a picnic or to see a tailgate party in the parking lot.

Maybe it’s just me, but when I’m in these situations I just want to get in, get it done and go home. I sure as fire don’t expect to “make a day of it”.