That Certainly Went Well

Said he, with teeth clenched. I was at the hospital all day, but not overnight, seeing more doctors than I can count and having tests run, and left without having the damned surgery which was the purpose of this exercise to begin with. It seems I can turn pretty much anything into a Chinese fire drill.

I have a history of ministrokes, for which I regularly take an anti-coagulant medication. It is my normal practice not to tell anyone when one of these things occurs, for reasons which you will understand shortly.

They had taken me off of that anti-coagulant before the scheduled surgery and had me on a shorter-acting one and so, of course, I had a ministroke the evening prior to the scheduled surgery. Upon hearing the news they promptly cancelled the procedure and did what they always do when they learn of this event, actually non-event, they freaked out. Consulting doctors were called in, seemingly by the dozen, I was wheeled all over the damned hospital in a wheelchair, feeling like a damned fool, probed, prodded, poked, rayed, zapped and needled interminably and finally they announced that they did not know what had caused it and sent me home.

Which is what always happens, and is why I keep these things to myself. At one point I turned to my wife, who has been critical of said practice, and said, “Now you know why I don’t tell my doctor when these happen.”

This country definitely has the best health care in the world.

Update, Friday, 6PM: Oh, good God.

Two calls from doctor and hospital to advise that yet more tests are pending, another MRI and one which involves examining my heart by sending a ultrasound probe down my esophagus.

This is devolving from comedy into a farce.