Enter the Anaconda
Upon arrival at the ortho clinic, I was seen by a female ortho surgeon. Now, let me be perfectly clear, this doctor is highly accomplished, incredibly skilled and I trusted her with my leg/foot. She also understood that I have MS, which means my bones and bone healing, not the best. All those steroids we have to take.
Given all these factors, she was, as was I, keen on surgery. For that I am grateful.
However, let me be perfectly clear again, she has all the warmth of an Anaconda. And that may be generous. She is the kind of no non-sense doctor who would say, “Yep, it’s cancer, need to amputate. See you in the OR in an hour.”
I am a blunt person, I am a direct person, but even I require a tiny dose of at least tepid caring. At any rate, after being contacted by the surgery center while I was en-route to have my surgery and assuring them I could pay the co-pay amount (damn that Obamacare for being their for me!), I was being prepped for surgery.
They needed a urine sample for a pregnancy test. That would have been nice to know when I told the check-in lady I had to pee and she, who had called about the co-pay just 20 minutes prior, had showed me the bathroom, allowing me to empty my bladder of all pregnancy testing contents.
I was dry. I asked for a catheter. They don’t have them. A blood test? Don’t do them. Everything comes to a stand still. The anesthesiologist asks the likelihood I am pregnant. My reply? “Not a chance in hell.” He says he’s willing to sign off on my surgery. The nurse says that is above his or her pay grade. Dr. Anaconda sticks her head in to see what the hold up is.
After being told, she looks at me, I say, “Not a chance in hell.” She says, “Let’s go.” Apparently Dr. Anaconda owns a stake in the surgery center. So, not above her pay grade.
At any rate,two hours later, I am in post op, sporting five screws and a steel plate. Go me!
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