Yesterday was another milestone on the road to Cochlear Implant Day (March 1, 2007): I had a pre-op physical at George Washington University's Medical Faculty Associates.
GWU MFA have a bunch of young resident doctors who do all of these pre-op physicals. They ask a bunch of questions, enter the answers into a computer, and then fax the whole wad over to Dr. Niparko at Johns Hopkins. Because I am over 50 (mad, hysterical laughter) and have cardiac problems, I also had to have a chest xray, an EKG, and some blood tests.
The first very young, beautiful doctor (from India or the Middle East, I neglected to look at her badge) had hiccups when she came into the room, and they kept up for a while. She was very embarrassed, but I thought her shy little hiccups were charming. I told her that hiccups must be a young person's plague, as I haven't had hiccups in years. She smiled....and hiccuped. My dad used to call them "hee-coughs." He had some very Irish expressions that he inherited from his mother, Alicia Hogan Dwyer. Her vocabulary was very Irish at its roots, but she attemped to refine it. Instead of "praties" for potatoes, Grandma Dwyer would say "perAYtoes." She thought it was common to say "praties." I suspect "hee-coughs" arrived in my dad's vocabulary by the same route. (And btw, many of the very young doctors at GWU are beautiful. That seems to be another young person's attribute--at least among the GWU MFA.) It's fun to look at all these Doogie Howser types running around practicing excellent medicine.
She asked me how old I was when I lost my hearing, and when I told her I was 26, she got a startled look on her face. Then a senior resident came in a while later and asked the same question. When I told her "26," she, too, got the same startled look. I suspect the two of them were about 26 themselves. That kind of information would make you wince if you were 26.
There's nothing between me now and the operation except the calendar. Two weeks before the surgery, I have to remember to stop taking a baby aspirin every night. And either two or five nights before (I have it written down at home), I have to stop the Plavix. And I have to buy a train ticket to Baltimore and back. It's so much easier than driving and parking. It's a very short cab ride from the Amtrak station to the outpatient center.
speaking again of the cold, it was nine degrees in nyc this morning. supposed to meet my minnesota friend on a street corner to decide where to eat. couldn't do it. stayed home; we talked on phone.
ReplyDeletei'm wishing there was a way to be helpful when you take the train to hopkins. is someone going with you or are you preferring to go solo? am hopeful that this reaches you directly, but...
my friend and glorious coworker cathy is going with me to hopkins, and she'll make sure i get home in good seasons (as dear julia, my late mother-in-law, would say). and sally is coming down friday night. by that time i'll either be fine or back in the hospital. one thing that threw me for a loop yesterday (and which i just remembered) is that GWU was OUT of pneumovax vaccine. i was sposed to get a shot of that, too. but i think many places are out of flu shots, not just DC. well, wot the hey. i'll be fine. most years i generally avoid flu shots because every time i've ever had one, i've gotten the flu! you are very kind to even think about this.
ReplyDeleteand...tada!...you seem to be able to post comments now on this thing! i hope this means it's working now.
9 degrees is the pits. it's cold here, too, but the weather bug says 30 degrees!!
I'm glad you're going to be looked after so well! God Bless Cathy and Sally.
ReplyDeleteHave you got a date for the big tune in?
I really like the new look!