Surgery in the suburbs
It’s a modern building, built on one level with two porticos, one as an entrance and one for discharge or ambulance arrivals. The structure is just a bit fancier than one of the bigger Walmart stores. It is one of seven “offices” of SOS, an orthopedic group. Less than seven months old, this is one of those free-standing surgery centers that seem to have multiplied enthusiastically for the past few years.
I pulled into the large parking lot, wondering how many patients they could accommodate reasonably to require so many parking spaces. I also noted that, because of the services they offered, this lot had many more handicapped spaces than you would see in any other similar venue.
As the chauffer, I was the person who made sure that the patient got safely to and from the surgery. I’ve been in such a position many times. Now that I think about it, I have visited at least four of the ambulatory surgery centers in that capacity in the last year, being the trusted relative or friend who doesn’t mind not only the driving but the waiting. And, truthfully, the waiting is not all that bad. Most of these venues provide at least free coffee, and some even have snacks for the “waitees.” It’s a good time to read or watch TV or just veg out.
What catches me off guard is that some of these in-and-out surgery retail sites can be found set among fast food restaurants and supermarkets. It just seems that is somehow not right. It may be that I am in the grip of what is known as proactive inhibition or the belief of the past interfering with learning in the present. I always think of surgery as taking place in a hospital, where they have people and equipment to bring you back if you come close to the precipice.
But I am sure that these one-day places have all the equipment and skill to do whatever has to be done.
At least that was what was on my mind as I shepherded my spouse for an 8:15 a.m. appointment at this center located behind the Aquatic World, Chicks Hair Salon, Great World Restaurant and the Oculus Tatoo Shop and across the parking lot from the DMV. It was a nice building, but it did look a lot like Walmart.
The staff was super, courteous and efficient. My spouse, who had been dealing with the difficulties of something called a “trigger finger” for a year, found himself refurbished in less than two hours. And there were comfortable chairs and free coffee in the waiting room as well as several large screen TVs.
While I read my new book, “Blowout” by Rachael Maddow (and she writes like a dream,) a funny, well-researched and interesting exploration of the oil and gas industry and how it has and continues to influence local, national and international policy and actions, the surgeon, Cassandra Riggs, MD, freed the appropriate tendon and Mr. Ferro’s left ring finger will now function well enough so that he can once again use a knife to cut his meat.
The doctor instructed my husband to keep the surgical area dry, which lead to the purchase of some gloves, the kind you use when you wash dishes and don’t want your hands to look like mine, in a lovely shade of blue. It was a kind of “salute to Michael Jackson” moment – one hand in a blue glove.
It was Nov. 5 and, on the way home, we stopped to vote. Of course, in a small village, you know the people at the polls and discussion proceeded about various and sundry surgeries experienced by the various and sundry people at the polls. It was a minor celebrity moment for Mr. Blue Glove.
Later we entertained those at the election day chicken and biscuit dinner at St. John’s by presenting a picture of old age …. one limping in with her cane and the other protecting his bandaged hand with a noticeable blue glove.
And my children wonder what we do for fun.
Ann Ferro is a mother, a grandmother and a retired social studies teacher. While still figuring out what she wants to be when she grows up, she lives in Marcellus with lots of books, a spouse and a large orange cat.
