Monday, the day I had top surgery, did not start off auspiciously. The car service called a half hour before the scheduled pick-up time to tell me they were running late. The car would arrive at my apartment after I was due at the hospital. We canceled the car and went down to Hudson St. and hailed a yellow taxi. The driver refused to take us to The Bronx. He claimed he didn’t know how to get there and his GPS was broken. We hailed another taxi. The driver punched the address into his phone and started driving. We arrived on time. I gave him a good tip.
Montefiore Hospital’s day surgery unit is in a huge building with many corridors. We got lost. We wanted the silver zone and kept ending up in the purple zone. A security guard led us to the day surgery registration area. I signed in and got changed into my gown and waited for Dr. Weiss to come by for the final mark up.
He arrived and apologized. He forgot to bring his measuring tape. He ran off to get another. I imagined him at the Dress Barn begging for a spare tape “Hurry up, I’ve got a patient on the table.” I have no idea where he found it, but, after what seemed like a long time, he reappeared with a new one. He looked at his notes, measured and marked and measured and marked. He stepped back, admired his work, and then we walked into the operating room.