Finally the final check-up before surgery.
BIL and I went. (MIL, wheelchair, slope, car, doctor’s office.) X-rays downstairs. Up elevator, sign in, co-pay. Bones look straight (really amazing), Dr. R.S is pleased. Sets date for surgery (very fast, he said, hardly any time at all under). Back over to hospital for pre-admission. What is her Medicare number? Explained about the Multi-County Stupendous Coverage Card and the fact we had not yet found it amid her papers. MIL beams at woman. Woman spent 10 minutes hunting through computer files for number. Nothing. Typed in: not yet found.
Up a floor to another office to talk about steps needed before surgery. Did we need this step? Sadly yes. Blood taken at time of last surgery cannot be used and urine needs to be taken. Can’t we do it here? No, said the nurse. The offices used different urine sample cups.
Different urine sample cups?
My mouth must have been agape. Why didn’t they stock both then? … But I didn’t ask.
BIL, MIL, and I out door, parking lot, car, wheelchair, new building. This building was right across the street from the hospital too. We waited in the messy waiting room amid crowds of people. Into another room to give blood. The floor tiles were broken and buckled, the cotton balls were scattered about the floor. Boxes were stacked along the wall. The bathroom was filthy and trying to assist MIL for the urine sample was a nightmare. She then had to go into a special room for blood being unable to get onto the stool. Which meant we waited longer.
Finally, exhausted, MIL taken home. I offered to make the run to the prosthetics clinic where we had to get a splint for MIL for after surgery. Dr. R.S. had said it would be small or medium, so I measured MIL’s arm. To clinic, into office, spoke to woman through office glass window. ‘Here for MIL’s splint.’
‘Ah,’ said the office woman settling down comfortably behind her file-covered desk. ‘I have her paperwork right here. Is she here?’ ‘No, I have her measurements with me.’ ‘Oh, no, no, no. We cannot give it to you. Insurance. Liability. She must come in.’ ‘That is very difficult,’ I gasped out and left.
Yet another visit for MIL. The only time open for family members would be the day of the surgery.
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