Tuesday, August 14, 2012
It's a pretty big op and we're a little bit emotional about it. Physically and emotionally, there is a lot of work to be done to get ready. At home, we had things to sort out, arrangements to make regarding work, pets, just general life stuff.
We were both pretty relieved to arrive at the same day admitting area this morning and be taken on time. Mark got into his charming gown, new housecoat and awesome IV. He sat in a little cubby while the nurses too'd and fro'd and tried to find him a gurney. From the waiting area, I saw his surgeon come in. All good signs right?
Next thing I know, a nurse is calling my name. She approaches me and says, "have you been told yet that the surgery has been cancelled." Dumbfounded, angry, sad, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, I say, "uh, no!" She takes me to where Mark is. He's now getting dressed and has big bandages on his hands from the IV stuff.
We're both upset but we understand, things happen. There was no bed available for him to go to once he got out of surgery. That is a problem. I suspect that they were backed up with trauma cases from the weekend. We suck it up and go home. Well, we try to go home.
We get to the lobby and I phone for a cab. While we are standing outside, upset, shaken, a smidgen angry, on the verge of tears (me anyway - I think Mark was probably more composed that I was), waiting for our cab, safely in the 9 m no smoking area. An older man approaches us, commenting on Mark's hair (it's long, silvery white and worn in a braid down his back). I can tell he's going to aks if Mark is aboriginal (he's not, he's a lapsed jew) and wants to start some kind of crazy conversation with us. I notice that he has bright blue nail polish on his very dirty nails. Mark sees his light cigarette and notices his "homeless tan" (not my description, I guess it's something Mark's observed while driving his cab). We both tell him no, to step away from us with the cigarette. The man starts into some discussion of religion. We ask him again to leave and I point out that he's in the no smoking zone. He tells me to call a cop if I don't like it. I pull out my phone and get ready to dial when I realize that there are security guards right inside the door. I tell the man that I'll just go fetch a guard. The man RUNS to the other side of the painted line and says, "there, what are you going to do now?" We say, "Nothing, you're in the smoking zone now, leave us alone." He starts hollering at us that we are hate-filled, are going to hell. Which is hilarious considering we don't believe in hell. We're both pretty sure that dead is dead and there no where to go when your number is up. However, he keeps hollering "well that's where you're going." We shout back at him to just leave us alone and to f-off and get into our cab. He was still shouting at us as we drove away. Mark told me that he sees guys like that all the time. They hang around outside the hospital and bum smokes from patients who go out for a cigarette.
Normally, I would probably just ignored someone like that but we were both so upset and he just picked the wrong moment. When we got home, I was still shaking with anger and frustration but calmed down enough to call the surgeon's office to rebook.
I have to say, the surgeon's office is amazing. They have given us a spot for tomorrow, we're checking in at 6 a.m. and Mark should be having his op by 8 a.m.
We're early birds most of the time so that won't bother us too much and I have to say, the blue-nailed smoking dude probably won't be up to greet us when we arrive tomorrow. We're feeling really lucky to have this new slot assigned to us so quickly. it was a real relief because I know how long these things can take sometimes. We'll both be really glad when tomorrow is over and we start down a road that gets things back to something close to normal again.