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Show Life and other trivialities . . . wish hospitals would tell you what's going on by Steve Christensen Assistant Editor A few weeks ago my wife needed minor surgery in Salt Lake. She went in as an out-patient, meaning she could go home the same day. She was scheduled for surgery at 9 a.m., but they said she had to be at the hospital at 7:30, for lab work. "Exactly what lab work must be done?" she asked ask-ed when we got to the hospital. "We need to run a blood test," the nurse replied. "How long does that take?" my wife asked. "About 10 minutes." "So I had to come in an hour and a half early for a 10 minute procedure?" "Hey, I don't make the rules." "Who does?" "I don't know, what are you getting on me for?" the nurse asked defensively. "I'm not getting on anyone," my wife explained, "I just wonder why I must hang around the hospital for a hour and 20 minutes when there's no need to." The nurse just shrugged and walked off with the vile of blood. We waited until 9 a.m. and then went to a dressing room to get my wife ready for surgery. When they came for her the orderly said I could go along but when we got to the operating room, the orderly order-ly pointed to a waiting area where I was to go. He offered no explanations. I sat there for about 45 minutes, without knowing if I was going to be there all day or just what. I finally decided decid-ed I wanted to know what was going on, so I went down to where we registered, for lack of knowing where else to go. When I asked, a woman replied with a question. "Didn't a lady come and talk to you in the waiting room?" "No." "Well, go back up there and someone will." "When?" "I don't know, that's not my department." So I went back, and sure enough, in a little while a woman did come and ask me if I was waiting for someone? I felt like saying, no, I just like hanging hang-ing around hospitals, but my sense of decency prevailed and I just told her my wife's name. She said someone would come for me when the operation was finished. She returned shortly and told me the doctor would see me. The doctor told me everything went fine and my wife would be out of recovery in about an hour; I could either return to the waiting room, or go back ! to where my wife had left her belongings. ! She would be taken there from the recovery room. I returned to the waiting room for an ' hour and a half, without anyone tellins me anything more. I decided I better go to the dressing room, since the doctor told me my wife would be expecting me there. An orderly in the dressing room told me I couldn't wait there. I told her the doctor told me I should be here when my wife was brought in, because she would be groggy, and it would be good forme to be here. She told me the doctor doesr.t make the rules, it's not even his department. So I returned to the dreaded waiting room, once again. By this time it hid been two hours since the doctor told me it would be an hour. I became a bit con- , cerned. I don't know, I guess I'm just that kind of guy. But I controlled mysel I decided it was just paranoia, so I just sat there and worried to myself. Another hour passed and I was getting worried I was going to need to be checked check-ed in. I kept telling myself there was not problem, buy my mind wouldn't listen. I kept imagining my wife having complications com-plications and no one dared come out to tell me she was dead. Finally a woman in a hospital uniform came into the waiting room and asked for me. I swallowed my tongue and my heart missed a couple of beats. I braced myself for the worst, but she just told me my wife was now out of recovery, and would I like to accompany her back to the dressing room? Everything went fine for my wife, but I may never be the same. |
