A few years ago, a few colleagues had a girly chat about annual medicals when one mentioned that she hadn’t gone for a gynae check-up in ages because she didn’t know anyone good in Cape Town. I was pregnant at the time and suggested that she made an appointment with the doctor I was seeing, adding that he was really good and wouldn’t make her feel all freaked out about exposing her lady lumps to a stranger.
A few days later I asked her how it was and she said that she walked in, saw him, cancelled her appointment right there and walked out. When I asked why she would do such a stupid thing, she exclaimed, “why didn’t you tell me he was a hottie?!?!?! I simply can’t be touched by a handsome doctor. I CAN’T!”
OK, let me just put it out there: I’m a bit of a cyberstalker.
Not in a bad way, mind you. I’m not going to pitch up at your house and pet your poodle in your front yard while you’re at work, or send you a piece of my ear in the mail.
It’s just that social networking and my super cyber-spying skills have made it possible for me to do a spot of research on people I am scheduled to meet. I’m partly interested. Partly paranoid. And like a good Scout, I like to be prepared.
Anyhoo, so I have my surgery this coming Monday. I have already Youtubed the procedure and decided that being knocked out might just be the best for my sensitive disposition.
But I’m a little nervous. The last time I had general anesthetic was when I was in high school and they had to cut out my wisdom teeth. I can’t remember much of that except the part where I ripped the needle out of my arm after I woke up.
Then, of course, I had two c-sections. The procedures weren’t really eventful (apart from the obvious reward in the end). My gynae even jokingly called me a cheapskate when I refused pain medication the day after and said that a Panado every now and then would be fine. The only bad part was that they wouldn’t let me eat afterwards, so I had to threaten to call Mr Delivery. Don’t come between me and food when I’m hungry!
So Monday’s around the corner and I feel like a bit of a surgery virgin with no idea what to expect.
Which meant I fired off a whole bunch of questions to Dr Bones’s (not his real name, obviously) office:
- what can I expect?
- will i stay overnight (because Google tells me I can go home the same day)
- who is the anesthesiologist?
- what time must I report to the hospital?
- CAN I EAT AFTERWARDS?
I got a little edgy when they didn’t get back to me so I decided to call yesterday morning. The receptionist answered all my questions with saint-like patience – she even managed a hearty chuckle when I asked her if either the surgeon or anesthesiologist had accidentally killed a patient during surgery in the past (just calculating my risk and all)…
But then… then she started telling me about the anesthesiologist. She was practically swooning at the other end of the line! So of course I got cracking to see what intel was available online. You know… any accolades… complaints on forums…
And as it turns out the good doc is a bit of a celeb. In addition working with needles and all sorts of chemical cocktails to make you sleep, he is also a weight-loss author and has appeared on TV a couple of times. PLUS – he may actually have nicer arms than Coach Evil-Steve!
And is it just me or does he bear a startling resemblance to (our former) Hot Naked Neighbor?
Oh, he’s also Belgian, and Sofie assured me that that’s a good sign. I can only hope she means that Belgians are nice people (of course, just look at how nice she is), highly qualified and that there is like zero chance that he will accidentally kill me on Monday…
The question is – how do I feel about being treated by a celeb? Does he get enough practice? I really don’t like being hurt by needles and their operators.
I wonder how do Dr Oz’s patients feel?