I had a doctor's appointment with the neurosurgery department a few days ago and it was decided that surgery is the way to go.
The appointment went as most appointments go. Wait in the waiting room until my name is called and fill out some forms. They're the same as the forms I filled out last time. No, I was told, they're slightly different so I have to fill them out again.
Then my name got called and I went into an exam room just barely larger in each direction than my arm span.
I started off with a nurse who asked me a bunch of questions which were on her computer screen. How much do I weigh, how tall am I, what seems to be the problem today. I get worried when she asks me how to spell glute. As in, gluteus maximus. I guess I have to give her a break because it turns out I don't really know either. Is it glut or glute? In any case, I thought she should know.
Later I was visited by a Physicians Assistant. She introduced herself as Kathleen, adding that she likes to go by Kat. I immediately liked her because I have a cousin named Kathleen-but-goes-by-Kat. She's wore the requisite white lab coat, paired with a fantastic pair of red patent leather pumps. The heel isn't a "sensible height" either. Those shoes were awesome which served to distract me from, at the same time confirming, my suspicion that she is all of 25 years old.
Finally, in walks the surgeon. Nice enough guy, Dr. Lee. Seemed confident, assuring. But he kept pointing to my left side while explaining how he would be operating on my right side. This concerns me. I made sure all the paperwork is correct. Do I need to write instructions on my back? Should I leave the quarter and the dime there so he knows what it should look like?
Just as we were finishing up he turned away from me to make some notes on the computer and that's when I saw the label on his pants. The brand label was on the outside of the pants like they are sometimes with jeans. His slightly casual khakis were from OLD NAVY. They cost - what? - $15?
Hold the phone. Hold everything! Bring me the surgeon wearing Armani. Maybe Gucci or Hugo Boss. Is Prada in the house? Even Ralph Lauren for crying out loud! But OLD NAVY? I decided I had better try some physical therapy exercises again in a last ditch effort to get better before February 5!
I looked up his bio today. He got his PhD and MD from University of Chicago in 2000 and 2001, respectively. He did his neurosurgery residency from 2001-2009 at University of Washington.
Ten years may seem like a long time to this young guy, but to me it's practically yesterday. He's only been out of school for less than a year. He must have exorbitant loans to repay which accounts for the cheap slacks, right?
He went to school in Chicago which means he's tough so I'll cut him some slack(s).
*This morning: 2 million without power on the East Coast* …maybe we ought to think about, you know, getting some.