Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Post Op – Day 4 – I Hate Unpacking!

Ema dropped me off at my ENT’s office this morning at 8:40 AM. The appointment wasn’t until 9:00, and so I sat, hunched on the front steps, imagining the dramatic visual impact that my fetus-like stance would have on the office staff as they drove into their parking lot to start their day. “Oh that must be Tom, the one for which we’ve short-changed meds, short-sheeted beds, and failed to call his prescriptions in as promised. . .poor fellow.” Oh yes, I did say ‘short-sheeted beds,’ but that will be covered in the next post when I get into the details of my hospital stay.

But alas, all this pitiful exercise really yielded was a sore back and a cramp in the ball of my foot that is – several hours later – still nagging me. You see, by 9:10 AM there were nine of us standing in front of the office, including two, six-month-old twins with chronic ear aches, an elderly man with a hole in his cheek, and a polished-looking woman in a business suit. At this point not one member of the office staff had driven past. It was becoming obvious that the staff had a secret entrance, and about then that I put my ear to the door and heard giggling from inside. I glanced at the business woman who correctly read my cue and in one smooth motion, whipped her cell phone from her purse and pressed a single digit – the speed-dial number for the lobby of the office. I heard the phone ring, the giggling stop, and the ‘clack’ of the deadbolt as the door swung inward.

I didn’t see my ENT today. Those special meetings are granted only to those who have yet to secure a surgical contract. I saw the Physician’s assistant, Anne, today. I think they used to call these people nurses, but they may be medical students without any real credentials – I’m not sure. Anyway, for what I needed today, my three-year-old would have qualified. Today was the day I got the ‘packing’ taken out of my nostrils. I’m happy to say that my prediction in my previous post regarding the composition of the packing material was correct. It is indeed vintage newspapers! In my case, vintage obituaries, apparently belonging to some of my doctor’s previous patients. Eerie, yet fascinating reading!

The Obits were removed, and I was told to come back in five days to have the stints taken out. I didn’t bring up the point that five days from now is a Sunday. We had all been through too much by this point; and I needed to find a comfortable place to resume my recovery far beyond the sounds of the screaming twins, and the giggles coming from the reception desk.