• Stress! Stress!

    by  • 28 February, 2005 • General • 0 Comments

    During breakfast the doctors come in and tell me to get ready for the stress test. I haven’t finished my tea yet and I ask “Now?“. Yes, is the simple answer. A nurse is already waiting with a wheelchair to bring me to the test room. There I get strapped up with a dozen electrodes and I have to walk on one of those threadmills that are so popular in fitness centres all over the world. Everything is fine, I finish the test completely and I am brought back to my room by the same nurse.

    I lay down in bed and doze off a bit. Suddenly a nurse shakes my arm. I have to get ready to be taken by the ambulance to the university hospital, she says. “What for?” I ask. “For the angiography”, is the answer. When? NOW! Why didn’t anybody warn me in advance, I wonder. I try to phone Yvonne to let her now but her mobile is cut off, so I leave a message. The nurse comes back and sees that I’m quietly sitting on my bed, waiting for the ambulance. “Why haven’t you packed your stuff and cleared your cabinet?” she asks. As it turns out, I will NOT come back to this hospital. Nobody bothered to inform me.

    I start packing but of course in those 10 days I have gathered too much stuff, so I’m short of plastic bags to put everything in. Fortunately Yvonne arrives while I’m still trying to figure out how to evacuate the place in an orderly manner. She took an extra bag. Now we are all set. The ambulance arrives 5 minutes later and Yvonne follows in her own car.

    At the university hospital there is some confusion caused by the fact that I haven’t been properly registered. I will have to spend the night there and will be put on the roll for the earliest possible angiography. Due to this Yvonne has lost track of me and while I am being wheeled in a bed to my new room, I try to give guidelines over the phone for Yvonne where to go. When I reach my room, I get one of those see-through green-blue-ish “robes” and a razor put in my hands with the orders to shave my right groin and “put this on”. I have absolutely no idea what is going to happen to me, everything is going so fast all of a sudden, nobody explains anything and I feel quite lost.

    In the bathroom I ponder over the question how much of my groin needs to be shaven. I don’t know what they are going to do to it, so I decide to be on the safe side and shave off the complete right half of my “front side”. That done I put myself into this ludicrous “robe”, and walk out of the bathroom feeling quite ridiculous. By that time Yvonne has arrived with my things. A little later someone in a white coat comes in and makes an effort to pronounce my name correctly. They always fail, no wonder, with such a name. When he’s done with me, at least we know that I’m scheduled for an angiography later that day and what the whole thing entails. Yvonne has to go back and I try to take a nap.

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