UPDATE to the Latest Chapter

So after my long grutch about today’s adventures, I talked with my former brother-in-sin, who happens to have been the premier cardiac anaesthesiologist in the Pacific Northwest until he retired a few years ago.

I’d emailed the details of today’s misadventure to him — my earlier post today was based on that message. In response, he called on the phone.

He said that either kind of respiratory infection — upper or lower — poses certain kinds of risks of complication with anaesthesia. If I had a lower respiratory infection, he would not have done it. If I had an upper respiratory infection, he would have done it. He figured I have an upper respiratory infection (you and I would call that “a cold”), said it was very easy to tell (I was never examined), and he thought the surgery should have proceeded.

“Is it a teaching hospital?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. “It’s the Mayo.”

“Well, the problem with teaching hospitals is that you can get into turf wars.”

Shee-ut. What IS it that I can NOT shake the dust of academia from my feet?

He says she should have cleaned out the hematoma, infection, whatever when she did the excision. I said that’s exactly what she intended to do: that was why I was there!

He said it was a shame I had to go through the clean-out  conscious — that it’s a painful procedure.

I said well, it sure wasn’t any fun, but it wasn’t that bad…not the sort of thing that would cause you to scream for help.

He said, “You are one tough bitch.”

Heee! There are those who think I’m a bitch, all right. But tough? Meh!