Thursday: Let's talk about the hospital

The good people at Rush say my lithotripsy was a success. I'm not remotely comfortable right now, so you can't prove it by me. Of course, the procedure was just over 24 hours ago and I still have a stent. About half the patients who get one after a urological procedure will have stent pain. I feel all the time like I have to pee, and there's a stinging. It's as though I traded one pain for another, though they assure me this is to be expected. After all, my kidney stone was pulverized and I'm passing bits of it. The stent comes out Sunday morning. I live for Sunday morning.

I wish I had gotten my anesthesiologist's name because I was pretty hard on him. He responded with great sensitivity. You see, he wanted to give me an epidural. If you read this humble blog regularly, you will remember that last month, my favorite-most ball player had an epidural and it went poorly. "Epidural" is the last word I wanted to hear.

"Anthony Rizzo is a strong 32-year old man and it went badly," I said. "I'm a sick 64-year-old woman. Why should I expect a better outcome?"

He walked me through it. I won't repeat his explanation since I might get it wrong -- and really, who needs more medical misinformation out there (remember Trump and hydroxychloroquine?) -- but it satisfied me. Then the anesthesiologist said he could tell I was nervous, but that he went into this specialty help and make me more comfortable. He said he he's met Anthony Rizzo because he volunteers his time at Lurie Children's Hospital, which Rizz supports through his foundation. I asked the anesthesiologist is I'm easier or tougher than the pediatric cancer patients. He smiled and said, "Tougher, because you ask tougher questions."

After the procedure, when I was still mostly out of it -- my eyes weren't even open -- he whispered to me, "Gal? Can you hear me? You may have a headache, but it won't be like Rizzo's." It made me happy that the first name I heard as I regained consciousness was Rizz's.

And the epidural was fine. It took me a while to shake it off, and it was weird to be looking at my feet and unable to move them, but eventually the numbness wore off and I was able to go home.

While I was waiting for discharge, I checked my phone. At 10:45 AM, the head of HR sent me a message, wanting to know why I hadn't accepted her meeting invitation. The head of HR doesn't know me. We could be alone together in the elevator and while she'd say hi, she couldn't tell you my name. There is only one reason why she wanted to meet with me.

I was, effectively, canned while I was in the Recovery Room. I think I have the most advertising-y advertising agency story ever.

My friend John was downstairs outside the hospital lobby Starbucks, waiting for me. We were quite a pair -- he with his cane and me in a wheelchair! He put me in an Uber, and I was happy to go home. Now if only I could lose the stent!