I walked back with a nurse to the pre-op area, where my weight was taken, in both pounds and kilograms. I was 43.7 kilograms. I'll let you find out if that's good or bad.
Then they bring you back to this little curtained bay area and have you sit.
This was my view:
Do you see the computer monitor on wheels? Doesn't it look high tech to you? In fact, it looks like a Jetson's character. Jane Jetson once went to see Dr. McGravity because her appliances weren't working and she was tired from having to push too many buttons - and outside his office was a nurse who looked exactly like this!
I kept staring at it, waiting for it to turn around, take my blood pressure, ask me probing questions and then leave to go to the next patient. What is that dark space under it? A roomba? Does it vacuum too? No wonder the floors are so shiny. And, so fiscally prudent. Try to get a union nurse to start an IV and then ask her to vacuum and see what happens.
How cool! I'm in good hands, this hospital has the very latest in technology.
But, Nurse McGravity never turned around. Soon a team of nurses came in to ask me a bunch of questions, and they were going to manually input them into that computer. I'm so disappointed. I perked up when I heard that the doctors had sent orders from their offices so it would be right there before surgery, and then laughed when I discovered that none of the doctors could figure out the new program and the nurses were going to have to call them anyway.
We're still a long way from the Jetson's.
Although, even Jane had to go to the doctor because her tech wasn't cooperating so maybe not.
They ask you the same questions over and over - everybody who talks to you: What is your name? What is your date of birth? What surgery are you having today? They ask you questions about every medication or vitamin you are taking, but apparently they have too many to choose from and as I discovered later, they got several of them wrong. The Afrin and the Vitamin B didn't matter so much, but the pain-killer being input incorrectly lead to my being given the wrong medication on my release.
Anyway, after 30 grueling minutes where three or four nurses were sitting around, trying to figure out that program and where any data the doctor might have sent ended up, they finished, Someone came in, started my IV, and gave me a gown, hat and shoes to put on.
And, I waited again, this time for Nuclear Imaging to call me.
Snazzy shoes, no?