I went with my mother to her second catarax surgery. We went there at the designated time and were made to WAIT and wait. It took them 30 minutes to change her into the gown. They put in her drops before taking the EKG or bloodwork which pushed back the surgery time (since they need to get the results back). Her eye doctor came and started scolding them, saying that if they aren’t going to be organized he should start bringing his patients in the day before to get the preop stuff done. It made me hesitant when he was trying to see whether we can just use the blood work taken another day and asked “How good is the blood good for?” Uh, shouldn’t you know that?
Anyways. I didn’t get to talk to him, but she was fine.
She was talking to my grandmother (her mother) about her last surgery and mentioned that shortly afterward, they give you a muffin and some coffee. My grandmother said something along the lines of “OMG! That is America for you, bred on coffee.” Yes, indeed. It is like returning to your mother’s tit.
During her op I went to have some hummus, falafel, and salad… and a beer (at 4pm! *gasp*). I’ve become such a lush lately. Now THAT is the real ambrosia… Ok. I must go stick my head in an oven while suckling a bottle of vodka!
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