Jason caught up with me about an hour after I arrived, and waited with my in my pre-op room. We sat talking minimally as I turned to my yarn for calm and strength. I am so glad I brought my yarn and hook because I waited much longer than I was originally told.
We listened to a mother-daughter pair across the hall, acting out in full dysfunction mode. The Mom using words like: Unacceptable! We are Professors! What’s TAKING so long? and the teenage girl of course in hysterical tears. Neither of them doing the other any favors. I was sitting in a gown and a robe and footsie socks with my yarn and a band-aid from where the nurse stabbed me, a little cold and very vulnerable.
The nurse had weighed me, taken my temperature, blood, asked me questions and then left me. An hour later a different nurse came in and started the exact same routine. I said to Jason: “They are VERY thorough here.” Finally the nurse caught on that this had already been done to me when I showed her the band aid. This made me a little nervous after the whole urine episode.
Making matters worse, NOT better, is this little tiny light on the wall labeled FIRE blinked the entire time we waited–about 2 hours. It was very disconcerting and irritating to have a bright flash while you told yourself this was not deja vu or the twilight zone, just a very thorough nursing staff.
WALK OF FEAR
Suddenly it was time to go. A giant tattooed man in scrubs picked me up and all of my belongings and then we picked up another man dressed just like me. He placed my valuables on a counter (another one) and said something like: “My colleague will take care of that.” I tried not to have my doubts. The scrubs man, the other patient and me and our spouses walked to an elevator bank where we parted ways.
They were a middle-aged couple and she was super positive and kissed him on the lips. I can’t remember if Jason said anything because I was busy thinking about how strange it was that this man and me, dressed alike, were walking together to our fate. When Jason left my side I felt tears in my eyes, but they drifted away as I called up BRAVERY.
No words were exchanged as we rode the elevator, crossed Madison avenue on a little indoor bridge, waited in a dimmed room with the Price is Right playing. What do you say: “So, what surgery are you getting done today?” No, you don’t say anything, you just pretend to be invisible.