Ah, connections.

One of my claims to fame is that I had a conversation with the great Umberto Eco (author of the title of this post) while we were using adjacent urinals. Why is that an important fact, as he mentions in the above quote? I was introduced to him by my first wife, she who is mentioned in the previous post. And that post, about anger, etc., connects to its previous post (that would be the previous previous post to this one) which discusses my primary doctor and medical directives that fail as medical directives.

Got it? Let’s connect.

(Interestingly I have another claim to fame that involves a urinal and Babe Ruth. I will see if I can work that in at another time.)

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One of the hardest parts of this journey to hell heaven restored health is the seeming incompetence of the support staff at the hospital. The absolute hardest, or most infuriating part, is having my body written upon without notice, permission or warning, but that will be saved for another time.

I do believe the support staff cares for the most part. By support staff I am referring to those who interact with patients and are not doctors. They may be nurses, technicians, patient relations, etc. Many seem to be good, caring people. And yes, many are competent and some are fantastic. Others want me to lie on a bathroom floor.

After Wednesday’s appointment with my primary doctor he wrote an email to the surgical staff that said I had questions about the directions for the pre-operation preparation. I don’t know if he admitted that he too had the same questions.

Thursday I was simply minding my own business, cleaning out an old office, and my cell phone rings. I notice it is from the hospital and, of course my first thought is “what the fuck do they want now?”

Hello, this is Nurse Athena and I understand you have questions about the pre-op preparation.

My first responses were filtered out by 50+ years of social training. “Yes, do you have instructions that make any fucking sense or are even possible within the laws of physics, time, and space?” was quickly deemed inappropriate. Valid, yes, appropriate, not so much.

Yes, basically they don’t make sense to me.

We had a good conversation, she was obviously familiar with the issues. She mentioned that she just changed her position and was working to modify these types of issues. She was also obviously familiar with my issues surrounding the cerberus II appointment since it was referred to once or twice.

Did we meet at that appointment?

Yes, I am the nurse practitioner who spoke with you about some of the issues.

Holy crap! This is the woman I wanted to contact afterwards but did not know her name, the one I told you about in yesterday’s post. A connection!

To be totally honest (hell, you knew it hurt when I ejaculated (which is no longer true) so I should not hesitate now with honesty) the conversation up to that point seemed a bit tense to me. I sensed something on her end, but not knowing who she was, and not knowing her at all, I knew I could not read too much into that. I am also used to getting calls from lawyers and school district administrators who are not sure how I will react and are a bit guarded. Maybe that was it, maybe she knew I was a very unhappy prick patient. The moment I learned who she was I understood what her first impression of me must have been. Again, I was livid that day. I kept it all under control but it was not hidden. She could not have any idea what I would be like on this phone call.

The conversation quickly took a turn. I apologized; she told me she totally understands where I was coming from. She said she has since learned more (when we first met, she had no idea of any of my trials and tribulations) about my experiences and why I was in the state I was in. I told her I wanted to reach out to her afterwards but neither Inanna nor I remembered her name or even that she was a nurse practitioner. Introductions don’t stick when your brain is melting down.

Turns out that we were both affected by our interaction and both bothered by it for a few days. I felt bad that I was so angry, whether or not it was justified. She felt bad for the same reason, it truly bothered her that one of “her” (my word) colorectal patients had reasons to be so angry and, in fact, was so angered. We commented that we both have great capacities for empathy (which, to be honest (again) I feel is to a fault (of mine), but that is another issue).

She assured me that I would be getting new paperwork that she is working on before my surgery and it would be properly vetted.

Yeah, that’s when I said it …

I would be glad to look at it before you finalize it if that would help.

I told her that I designed and implemented international trainings for Intel and Motorola, I give trainings and talks to school districts, have been a professor, etc.

That was Thursday afternoon. By end of day Friday I had already looked at two of their re-worked documents and put together a sample presentation to give them the idea of using several types of media to convey the important points.

In one of her emails to me (many going back and forth) she wrote:

I like the the word “enhancements” (not criticisms) because it highlights our collaboration on this project.

So there you have it. Connections. Connections among the last three posts. Connections with famous people and urinals, one at the urging of my first wife. But more important at the moment, a connection and a collaboration between an empathetic, intelligent, compassionate, and driven nurse practitioner and a cranky, empathetic, experienced, engineer / advocate / curmudgeon with a cancerous tumor up his ass.

Who’d a thunk it?