Clearly God was in control. Not only was I able to get the 5:40am bus ON TIME to be at the hospital…but my attending nurse happened to live where? In the Haight. Where? On Clayton. Which part of Clayton? Between Haight & Waller. That would be 639 Clayton. That would be our old place. As Ginny Bunnell used to ask: “Coinkidinky?”
Signing all of the pre-op ‘releases’ certainly drives home the seriousness of surgery. No wonder I kept confusing anaesthesia with anethenasia….glad it was the former…though the reluctance I had to come “out” of it after the surgery led me to believe they may have goofed a bit. My first post-op memory was looking into my inquiring doc’s face and then down at my toes and pointing sternly at them and asking defiantly, “why are they still crooked?”
After all of that hoopla, I wanted beautifully straight toes. But the surgical booties can hide a lot – the good, along with the ugly (Frankensteinian stitches and pins that I woudl later see -fortunately, however, this ugly involved no “bad” in between!).