“I’m having spinal anesthesia,” Bruce said. “Dr. Mason’s fellow, Dr. Kolganov, told me I was to have spinal when he did the history and physical.”
“It doesn’t matter what kind of anesthesia you’re scheduled to have. Have you eaten anything? You were told not to eat after midnight. That is the same for everyone.”
“No, I’m fine. Let’s get the show on the road.” Bruce glanced at his watch as his heart skipped a beat. A sudden fear swept over him that Dr. Mason might change his mind and refuse to operate on him. That was the last thing Bruce wanted.
“Okay,” Martha said with a touch of reluctance. “You have a negative history and physical by Dr. Mason’s fellow, so maybe we can leapfrog the junior surgical resident going over it and adding his two cents. There has been a kind of rush here over the last half hour, so I know he’s got his hands full, meaning it would take quite a while for him to get to you. Which side is to be operated on?”
“Right side,” Bruce said.
“Do you have any allergies?”
“No. None.”
“Have you ever had anesthesia?”
“No. I’ve never been a hospital patient.”
“Excellent.” Then Martha called out to one of the attendants tasked to take patients into the changing area where they would get out of their clothes and put on hospital gowns. She handed Bruce’s folder to him. “Good luck,” she added to Bruce. “And next time be on time!”
Bruce gave her a thumbs-up and a guilty smile, and followed the attendant.
After getting out of his clothes and struggling into the hospital gown, Bruce lay down on a gurney and pulled a sheet up under his armpits. Another nurse appeared, dressed in surgical garb, one of the few nurses he didn’t know. She introduced herself as Helen Moran and asked the same questions Martha had asked. Then she marked Bruce’s right hip with an indelible marker after confirming with him the side to be operated on. “My orders are to move you along at top speed,” she said. “I’ll let anesthesia know you are on your way over. They have been looking for you.”
Bruce nodded. He felt progressively embarrassed at having been late to Admitting and appreciative of the extra attention he was getting because of it. He figured it was due to a large degree that Dr. Mason was his surgeon. An orderly appeared just after Helen left, unlocked the gurney, and then maneuvered it out into the hallway. His name was Calvin Wiley. Bruce didn’t know him, but he knew Bruce. “You are a VIP,” Calvin said as he wheeled the gurney along the tortuous route toward the operating suite. “I was told you were one of Dr. Mason’s patients and I was to get you up to the surgical holding area on the double.”
“Hardly a VIP,” Bruce responded, but he was pleased. As he had assumed, having Dr. Mason as his surgeon was a major plus. He just hoped his being late wouldn’t screw things up.
Calvin deposited Bruce in the pre-anesthesia holding area in a cubicle defined by curtains. As soon as he left, two nurses appeared: Connie Marchand and Gloria Perkins. Bruce knew both of them, because both commuted to and from the medical center by car. After a bit of banter, mostly about Bruce’s children, Gloria left. Connie went over the paperwork, checked the inked X on Bruce’s right hip, and went through the same questions Martha and Helen had asked. Satisfied that all was in order, Connie gave Bruce’s arm an endearing squeeze and told him that she would let anesthesia know that he was there. “I imagine one of the anesthesiologists will be by right away,” Connie said. “We’ve gotten a few calls about your whereabouts. Dr. Mason doesn’t like to wait.”
“So I hear,” Bruce said. “My bad! Sorry! I was a bit late to Surgical Admitting. Will everything be okay?”
“It should be all right,” Connie assured him.
A few minutes later the curtain was pulled aside and a youthful woman with arctic-blue eyes and tanned skin came to Bruce’s side. She was dressed in blue scrubs, including a hood that completely covered her hair. In a direct and pleasant fashion, she introduced herself as Dr. Ava London, one of the staff anesthesiologists, and then added: “I will be helping Dr. Mason take care of you this morning, Mr. Vincent, while he fixes your hernia. I must say it is a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard that you are quite a popular guy and that the darling photos I’ve seen on the cafeteria bulletin board are your children.”
“I oversee hospital parking,” Bruce explained, already liking this attractive and personable anesthesiologist. “I am surprised I haven’t met you. Are you new to the staff?”
“Relatively new,” Ava said. “But it is coming up on five years.”
“That is not new,” Bruce said, a tad chagrined, as he prided himself on his knowledge of the medical center’s staff. “I guess you don’t use the garage.”
“No need. I’m able to walk to the hospital,” Ava said as she looked through the paperwork on the clipboard at the foot of Bruce’s gurney. “I live nearby, on Beacon Hill.” She immediately noticed there was no corroborating note by a junior surgical resident. She asked Bruce why.
“Martha Stanley felt there was no need, because Dr. Mason’s fellow had done the history and physical just a few days ago. Truthfully, it was my fault. I was late getting to Surgical Admitting. They wanted to get me over here ASAP.”
Ava nodded. A fellow, having already completed his surgical residency, was certainly more qualified than a junior surgical resident. She glanced through the history and physical. It was totally negative for any medical problems except the run-of-the-mill inguinal hernia. Satisfied that all was in order, she put the clipboard back onto the gurney and reestablished eye contact with Bruce. “So it seems you are in good health.”
“I think so. Can we speed this up? I don’t want Dr. Mason upset that I was a bit late checking in.”
“It is important to do this right. I need to ask you a few questions. I see there is no history of medical problems, particularly no problems with your heart and lungs.”
“None.”
“And you have never had anesthesia?”
“Never.”
“And you haven’t eaten since midnight.”
“Dr. Mason’s fellow said I was going to have spinal anesthesia.”
“That is correct. Dr. Mason’s secretary specifically let us know that the doctor requested spinal anesthesia. Are you okay with that? You know what it is?”
“I do. Actually, I know most of the anesthesiologists and nurse anesthetists, who have told me all sorts of things about anesthesia.”
“An informed patient! That’s helpful for sure. But you realize we have to have consent to use general anesthesia in case there is any problem with the spinal.”
“What kind of a problem are you talking about?”
“The chances of a problem are very small, but we have to be prepared. For instance, if the surgery takes longer than expected and the spinal begins to wear off, we must be prepared to give you general anesthesia. For that reason, we need consent just to cover all the bases. That’s why we are interested in whether you have any problems with your lungs.”
“No problems with my lungs.”