Entries in Anthony Marsalese (1)

Monday
Feb232015

Doctor Jeff Saves the Day

Last week, Anthony had hernia surgery. Before I begin, I have to commend the staff at Henry Ford Hospital in Downtown Detroit. The whole experience couldn’t have been better. Not only did his surgery and recovery go well, but everyone, from the Doctor cutting him open to the person parking our car was very professional and more importantly, friendly.

His surgery was scheduled for 7:30 in the morning, but we had to be there at 5:30. Knowing that it wasn’t all about me, I only commented twice about the early appointment and only once about it being the coldest day of the year (-24 degrees according to my car’s thermometer).

Other than that, it was Anthony’s day.

As he was called into Pre-Op, he was allowed to bring in one family member so he had no choice but to let me in.

The whole thing was sort of surreal. They brought us into a tiny cubicle with nothing but a thin curtain with a terrible plaid pattern separating us from the other inmates. And you could hear every word they were saying. I think the man next to us was having some sort of brain surgery and the lady across from us was having some kind of metal plate inserted in her stomach. But for whatever reason, both of them seemed to be getting much more attention than we were and we were starting to feel neglected.

The man getting the brain surgery was asked so many questions, you’d think he was a candidate for the Nobel Prize and “Stomach” woman was extremely needy. “Seriously, how many doctors does she need, ” I whispered to Anthony as the fifth person asked her about her allergies. “I think she’s making it up, how can one person have so many things wrong with them”, I continued. It also didn’t help that the doctors were leading her on. “You don’t have any sensitivity to penicillin, doooo you?” one of the attending physicians ask the hypochondriac, in which, she of course replied “why yes doctor, I think I might” then “You aren’t feeling any pain in your lung area are you?” “Oh, only when I breathe, Doctor” We hadn’t even been seen by a nurse yet, and Little “Miss Over-Reactor” was holding court with every doctor in southeast Michigan. 

This went on for some time and we were both starting to get a little jealous, until our Anesthesiologist came in to introduce herself. I think of all the people you don’t want to make angry, it’s your Anesthesiologist. They literally are in charge of putting you into La-La Land and making sure you don’t wake up at the precise moment when the Doctor begins slicing and dicing.

 She seemed like a friendly person, so I started off with a little humor by asking her if she knew Michael Jackson’s guy and if she did house calls. It worked because she laughed. At least I think she thought I was funny, it’s either that, or she was evilly contemplating putting Anthony out of his misery so he wouldn’t have to live with me. But my guess is she liked me.

Following her entrance, many people suddenly surrounded us. One was taking Anthony’s temperature, another was checking his blood pressure, another was sticking in his I.V and a fourth (I think the head nurse) was asking him all about his medical history. I looked over at little “Miss Plate in Her Stomach” and she didn’t look very happy. For the first time in an hour, she didn’t have even one person giving her attention and we had tons. “Ha! Not so fun now, is it?” 

Anyway, finally it was my turn. The head nurse asked me if I was the person who’d be waiting during the procedure. “Yes”, I said. Then she asked me for my number and assured me that they’d call me as soon as he was in recovery. I asked how long the whole thing would take, where I should wait, etc. It was all going very smoothly until she told me how nice it was that I accompanied my DAD to his surgery.

“Oh yes she did. DAD!”

Anthony was too busy being poked to hear her, but I did.

 I had to think quickly and try to correct her without Anthony knowing and without her feeling embarrassed. He was just moments away from literally being turned inside-out, so the last thing I wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable, but I also thought it was important for her to know that I was his spouse. I had to come up with something fast, that was both witty and understanding. I don’t know how or why I said it, but somehow the words, “I think it’s illegal to marry your Dad in Michigan” came out. I then put my fingers to my mouth like saying “Shhhhh, he didn’t hear you, so let’s keep this our little secret” (wink-wink).

Long story-short, Anthony is still alive and doing well and he hasn’t a clue that it’s all due to my quick wit and charm.