So where’s the problem?

The queen on her river barge, high on life and a few pain killers. (Photo by Lynn Hunter Hackett)

I have to share this with you.

Ten days ago Betsy underwent arthroscopic knee surgery. It wasn’t serious, but they did put her under, and cut into her in two places. There was blood, and pain, and nausea, she was on crutches, and had all the usual stuff that goes with such things.

I’m illustrating this piece with a photo of how she handled it. That photo is taken five hours after her surgery. After she cleared up from the anesthesia, Betsy’s commentary was all about how grateful she was: the timing was just right, the doctor and nurses were great, we had health insurance, and on and on. It was a joy to sit with her.

Her recovery went very well, with no complications at all until Thanksgiving Day. On Thanksgiving she looked down at her leg and there were red blotches and bump all over it. It spread to her upper leg, and then to the other leg. Betsy’s sister is a physician, plus we got hold of the poor doctor who was stuck with being on call on the holiday.

Everyone’s chief concern was that it might be a blood clot. It would have been scary if we’d thought about it, but we didn’t, so it wasn’t. Naturally we took her to the emergency room. Always take appropriate relative-plane action. Well, I have to tell you, this really was perfect timing: the emergency room was completely empty but for us and the staff. They told us that the previous night the wait time had been eight hours. At midday on Thanksgiving it was zero.

We got pulled back to the ER rooms in minutes. The guy who first met us there said, “Ma’am I’ve been waiting to see you all day!” That’s because Betsy was his first patient of the whole day. He was funny and nice, and then he made way for a pair of nurses.

The first nurse took a medical history while the second took her vitals. And then one of them said, “Oh my God, I love your shoes!” The other one chimed in with agreement. That had to be talked about. Betsy was laughing and hooting and altogether charming.

Then one of the nurses said, “Who cuts your hair? That’s the cutest thing I ever saw!” This, too, had to be discussed—they apologized for not being entirely professional, but of course Betsy waved all that off, and a good time was had by all. Betsy gave the first nurse the name and phone number of her stylist.

The two nurses finally left the room, but were back in about three minutes. They were half-laughing and half-shocked. One of them said, “Well we know about your medical history, and we know about your shoes, and we know about your hair, but we don’t know who you are!” They had forgotten to ask her name.

We got a solid resident, and then we got a great doctor. I mean, this guy was a walking medical encyclopedia, and he spelled out his every step in order to help train the resident. The resident had already ordered blood work and an ultra-sound, which he pleasantly concurred with.

They brought the ultra-sound to Betsy, with a nice young man wheeling in the contraption and then keeping up conversation while he worked. He and I had a short philosophical discussion about the impact of Eastern thought on ancient Greece. Smart guy.

They decided it was probably a drug interaction, probably with Tylenol. Betsy had been taking both Tylenol and Oxycodone with Tylenol. At any rate, when it came time to leave, it was like we’d come for turkey, and now had to leave. Everyone was great from beginning to end, especially Betsy. Once again, as we left the hospital, her emphasis was on gratitude, as was mine.

“Isn’t it great to be a citizen?” I asked her. As a former drunk, I don’t take such things for granted. We had insurance, we had no wait, we got great help, all of that.

Betsy is also a former drunk, and a former IV drug addict, and she went down the list with me, and added things of her own. We were together, we had driven to the hospital in a nice, warm car, and had nice, warm clothes. They had given her a prescription for serious drugs that can be used for entertainment, and they did it without batting an eye. And on and on.

We came home, put on our PJ’s jumped in bed with Willy, watched a video for an hour, and then she conked out. I went downstairs to read and meditate. It was a great day! Just like with her surgery, we could find a lot to be grateful for, but we could not find a problem.

Life is good!

.

All love,

Fredness, 11.29.14