Pre-op at 2.30 P.M. I wait for 50 minutes although the enormous waiting room is practically empty. Finally, I walk up to the desk to find out how much longer before they can see me. The attendant flies up from her chair, returns right away, and assures me “only a few more minutes.” She comforts me with a free parking pass.
“You have NEVER had an EKG? Never ever?” gasps the nurse. ” The procedure is quickly set up. The EKG technician is a wiry, older woman with close-cropped gray hair and a flawless black complexion. She looks me over from top to toe. “How old are you?” she asks, a bit haughtily. (Don’t they look in their charts?) “You look good,” she says approvingly when I tell her I am sixty. “You too, “I almost blurt out, but realize she may not be even be 50 despite her steel wool hair. So I catch myself and say only: Thank you.
After close to an hour wait, my blood pressure is measured, a blood test is taken, a quickie EKG is done, and some multiple choice forms are filled out before I am declared fit for surgery. Only two days left now until they dig out that festering tumor.
Soon I am back out in the summer sun and realize I somehow managed to misplace my free parking pass. Darn.
