WHEN PAIN IS A FRIEND PART 2
Fast forward to
April 2012. Almost a year to the day of
my first diagnosis, a routine follow-up visit to my doctor proves to be not so
routine. A bad news gut feeling fills
my being when the sonar technician stops chewing his gum and signals my surgeon
to look at the screen. Dr. Richard Matano has my upmost confidence as a
celebrity of vascular surgery and head of that department in one of the
nation’s most renowned hospitals, St. Francis in Roslyn, N.Y. That said, I would never play poker with the
man. He has remarkable body control when delivering sensitive news. He
instructs me to get a blood test and CT Scan ASAP, inquires about my kidneys,
and sends me home with don’t worry, I’ll
call you after I get the results.
Not so fast. Test and Scan are
complete before a week goes by – no call. At this point, I’m operating on the
optimistic theory: No news is good news.
I find it difficult to accept the fact; I’m not his only patient. Finally, the
long awaited call:
“I reviewed your test and I’d like to do
another angioplasty. Similar to the last one, it should be no more than a two
day hospital stay. Call Susan (his secretary) and have her schedule the procedure. Take care and
enjoy your day.”
Is it me or what? Has anyone noticed
the new substitution of “procedure” for “surgery”? Has anyone noticed
“pre-owned” for “used”? Not to be confused with the analogy, sometimes I feel
used for a procedure that my HMO will consider a surgery on a pre-owned
condition. As anyone who’s been there will attest, non-emergency “procedures”
require pre-surgical exams. Mine raises a new “red flag”. My heart rate is low
and surgery may have to be postponed until corrected. The decision rest with my
surgeon who instructs everything remain on schedule, everything that is, until Friday,
May 25th, the day of my scheduled surgery and the eve of Memorial
Day weekend. Again, the “red flag” appears from the anesthesiologist who
summons a procession of doctors, including my surgeon, to discuss the risk of
going forward. I, being the object of this conference, am beginning to see the
risk of a planned bar-be-que.
Thanks to the head of cardiology who
happens to be another celebrity of medicine, my surgery/procedure is now
postponed to Sunday. Of course that decision is based on caution, which is the
only comfort I’m afforded as my planned two day episode fades in the dust. My
sense of smell still intact, I do not fail to detect the aromas of the grill on
various staff as they monitor the intravenous connection to my arm. No hard
feelings; they are scheduled for their shifts regardless of the presence of Ron
Scott. The OR (Operating Room) is a different story.
The head of a medical department has
authority, power and clout. To be a member of a team of authority, power and
clout entails sacrifice on many occasions. Sunday, May 27th was such
an occasion. During my final prep for surgery, I noticed no other patients in
the usual assembly line. I also noticed familiar faces from the first attempt to
send me on my way, including my anesthesiologist. What was unmistakable was the
lack of smiling faces. Mine was not the only bar-be-que in jeopardy! I prayed
they wouldn’t take it out on me.
If you are reading this,
you know the procedure/surgery was a success. I’m in recovery when I receive information
clarifying the reason for the original delay – over-medication
from a drug I’ve been taking for years (Toprol
XL). Now the irony begins. Before I can be released from the hospital, a
completely unrelated medication, Coumadin
must be given time to restore my blood level to its desired level. For the
uniformed, this medication is a controversial blood thinner used to prevent
blood clouts. Serving its purpose, it requires regular monitoring which
disturbs many doctors and patients. Privately, I’ve heard it referred to
as rat poison by an unnamed physician. After eight extended days and
innumerable blood samples, I am granted my release. Okay, so maybe it is rat
poison, but it prevented me from becoming one of those statistics: The operation was a success, but the patient
died.