Yesterday Hubby and I ventured into the big city of OKC. I was scheduled for pre-op tests for my upcoming hip replacement surgery. (Back story here and here.) I’ve never been a fan of tests and this day was no exception, as I was quite anxious. Mostly because I didn’t know exactly what they were doing to me.
First stop Circle K here in Lawton to fill up on tasty diet beverages for the road. I asked Hubby to pick up a package of my favorite breath mints for me. He also came back with a bag of chips and
a Tijuana Mama Pickled Sausage for himself. Why, I’m not sure. We’ve been down this path before with him eating this particular snack. Usually with the window rolled down because the smell of the Tijuana Mama turns my stomach. Later when he tore open the package I immediately felt nauseated and covered my nose. Luckily I had just rubbed lemon scented cuticle cream onto my hands, so that cut the odor immensely. "That’s offending my olfactory," I said. I think he might have smiled. Don’t know if it was because he thought he was getting away with something or because of my use of an adjective as a noun.
After running a couple of errands, we stopped for lunch at the historical landmark Kaiser’s Ice Cream, home of the Grateful Bean Café, in downtown Oklahoma City. We ordered the Buffalo Burger with oven baked fries and split a chocolate milk shake. Hey, it’s an ice cream parlor. I think there is a rule you have to order a creamy confection. A chocolate milk shake is one of my "go to" comfort foods. Just what my nerves needed. The restaurant is charming with its vintage décor and the staff are friendly. The food was delicious. What more could you ask for?
I decide to drown out my onion breath with one of those mints Hubby bought earlier. Wait, what the heck is this? Instead of my Eclipse Winterfrost Mints, he had picked up peppermint flavor. The Monk in me did note the new banner on the package, Now With Natural Germ Killing. I try one and couldn’t spit it out the window fast enough. It tasted just like one of those round red and white peppermint hard candies that I hate. Yuck.
We arrived at the clinic and checked in at the front desk. "Will one of the tests require a cup," I asked. Reception lady didn’t know, "Sign in here." Hubby disappeared behind me to make a pit stop. She sent me down a long hallway to my doctor’s check-in desk. "Hello," the girl said. "Sign in here." "What tests am I going to have done?" I ask. "You will speak with the PA, then have lab work and x-rays." Lab, that sounds like the place. We sit awhile in the most uncomfortable chairs in the world before I’m called back to the exam room.
Nurse girl takes my vitals. After two attempts, she comments that my blood pressure is slightly elevated. "Yeah that happens at the doctor’s office," I say. She leaves and we sit there awhile in more uncomfortable chairs. Mine is facing a gigantic mirror on the back of the door. I'm not happy with the reflection. My hair looks great, but I sure wish I wouldn't have regained those extra pounds I lost last year. Laying around recuperating sure won't help either.
PA guy comes in and didn’t really have much to say... blah... blah... blah... titanium... blah... blah... blah. My mind wanders, "I’m going to be like the bionic woman after this." Nurse girl comes back in with a handful of paperwork and directs me to other parts of the building. "Is peeing in a cup one of the tests," I ask. By this time I’m about to burst. I’m thinking doctor’s offices should be required to tell you in advance. On more than one occasion, I’ve relived myself while waiting at the doctor’s office only to be handed the dreaded plastic cup five minutes later. Nurse girl replies, "Yes, and if you would like to go to the lab first and then to x-ray, that would be fine." Hallelujah, I’m thinking, as I bolt out the door and down one floor to the lab.
"Sign in here," the lady says. Gheez, how many times. She starts filling out paperwork, copying my insurance card, and labeling things. "May I do the cup test first?" I ask. "Absolutely," she says as she hands me the much sought after receptacle and points the way to freedom. My cup runneth over.
Next the Lab Girl prepares to take my blood. "I have small veins but getting a couple of tubes is usually no problem," I warn. "Two, I need four!" she exclaims. After searching in vain for a suitable vein on one arm, she quickly fills her ginourmous plunger from the other. Then over to a table for an EKG. Good, I’m thinking. Now I will know if the pain I’ve been experiencing in my left shoulder and chest area the last two days was a heart attack or just anxiety. I guess I passed this test; she didn’t say. Next, she hands me a plastic cup! "Been there, done that," I announce proudly.
Back up a floor to the uncomfortable chairs as we sit in the x-ray waiting room. There’s a big crowd gathered here, but at least there is coffee. After several minutes Hubby gets up to get me a cup. The second he goes to hand it to me, they call my name. A couple of chest x-rays and a wait in another uncomfortable chair while the gal check them. I start thinking about my oldest brother while I wait. He’s an x-ray tech in a big hospital in Houston. I wonder if he is working at this same moment in time.
Last stop is back down the long hallway to speak with the hospital pre-admin nurse. "Sign in here," I’m told for the last time. All the boxes are now checked on the top sheet of that big stack of paperwork I‘ve been carrying around. The Hospital Nurse was training another woman to fill out the forms and conduct the pre-administration interview. Do you have a living will? Do you
understand the risks of anesthesia? Trainee Woman points to three long rows of possibilities, "starting with nausea and ending with 'more serious ones'" she says. "You mean like death?" I state bluntly, because one I’m straight forward like that, two because it’s right there in black and white under the word stroke and right next to her finger, and three because she seemed so nervous about saying the word. Hubby picked up on it too. He offered, "Maybe you could say Premature Life Exit." Thank you Shecky.
More questions: Who will be taking care of you at home? Do you have any allergies? Are you an organ donor? Do you want to donate your bone marrow? "From the part they cut off," I ask. "Yes," she says, "they do research." I’m thinking that I won’t be bringing it home in a jar, so why not, if it might help somebody else.
The Hospital Nurse tell Trainee Woman to tell me about the shots. What shots? For ten days after the surgery, I will need to be on a blood thinner. After I’m released from the hospital (about 3 days), they will send the remainder of the injections home with me to self administer. "You just pinch the skin on your belly," Hospital Nurse says matter-of-factly. Say what? You want me to do what? Hubby pipes up, "I’ll do it." Immediately my mind races to that scene in Pulp Fiction... you know the one. "That’s okay, I can handle it," I assure everyone.
Next I ask Hospital Nurse, "How close is the nearest heart doctor to the orthopedic hospital?" My mind worries about things like this, since there is a history of heart disease in my family. She assures me that they have a wonderful cardiologist on call, Dr. Hope.
Dr. Hope? Shut up! My mind races. I smiled at the thought. Surely this had to be a sign. Remember never lose Hope!
I’m ready for surgery now. Trainee Woman has me sign and date the form and then she hands me a DVD that shows how to get around after surgery.

On the way out of town, I suggest that we stop by a grocery store. I blogged recently about my beloved Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr Pepper that has disappeared from the shelves of the Lawton stores. After which, Brenda from A View from the Pines went out to her local store in Texas and got her some. So now I’m thinking we should check the availability of it here in OKC. We spotted a Homeland and Hubby went inside. He returned with five packs of soda, the location of another Homeland up the road and another package of not-my-breath-mints. "They didn’t have yours," he explained. So, I popped a Tic Tac Bold! Mint into my mouth and about gagged. It also quickly found its way out the window. "That tastes like mouthwash," I said. "It’s even worse than the last one." He’s laughing his head off over this now. "What? No thank you, honey, for buying me some mints?" he jokes.
Next, we head up May to the second Homeland Grocery Store. Hubby returns without sodas and hands me another package of not-my-breath-mints, Wrigley's Doublemint Twins. Well, at least these are wintergreen flavor I’m thinking. At first, not bad, then I bit into the center. Gag. Horrendous. Out the window it goes. He can barely contain himself at this point, as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two packages of the correct Eclipse mints. "Thanks, b*#ch," is all I can manage to say.
PS: Natural Germ Killing = doesn't taste as good anymore.