Twenty minutes of meeting with medical people today sandwiched into three hours of time. Gah.
This was all in aid of knowing what to expect from the anesthesiologists on Monday, getting baseline vital signs taken, and filling out more forms explaining who my emergency contact is and stuff like that. In order to confirm I’m who they thought I was I must have told at least a dozen people my birth date today.
All the preliminaries are a pain, when you just want to get it done. But they’re necessary: I once went in for surgery on my left leg, and they read me the surgical order just to double-check, and they had me down for surgery on my _right_ leg.
Good luck on Monday.
Well, you only have one mouth, so they can’t operate on the wrong one of that. Bruce is right – the last time I had a knee redone, they’d given up putting an X on the operation knee and actually wrote “this one” or something like it.
We’re waiting with fingers crossed and wood knocked upon. Always thankful for updates.
May it all go well.
The worst part about giving out your birth date all those times was saying the words “1950”. Admit it. When I have to cop to “1949”, I always follow up quickly with the phrase “Yeah, I know – surprising, right? I don’t look that old.”. Good luck with the procedure!
All prayers and good thoughts heading your way, Steve!
(Dang, that didn’t sound cynical at all, did it?)