I had my two week post gall bladder surgery appointment this afternoon, and it's definitely worth a story. Have I mentioned that I LOVE being friends with my surgeon? I mean, serious perks. And today was one of them. Well, sort of.
I got to my appointment, said my name to the woman on the other side of the counter and she said, "I'll find you a room right away." And with that, she led me down the hall, past my doctor's office, where he waved at me as he talked on the phone, all the way to the back of the practice to a closed door with very recognizable symbols of a man and a woman on it. Yep, a restroom.
It turned out to be a combination examination/dressing/restroom where I sat on one of the two chairs for all of twenty seconds before Dr. VG came through the door. "I didn't want you to have to wait," he told me. "Hope you don't mind." ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I didn't even mind that there was a toilet behind the curtain in the corner with all that instant attention. He read me the description he'd written of my gall bladder after removing it (and was actually a little sad he hadn't brought a picture). The marble-sized stone was stuck like cement in the entrance and the whole organ was green. GREEN. Can I just say that I'm pretty sure that green is NOT a good color for any organ. Maybe for eyes but NOT for organs within the human body. "It definitely needed to come out," he told me. Well, I think so.
I told him I've been feeling pretty tired this week.
"You had your gall bladder out two weeks ago today, a house full of people for Thanksgiving and you can't figure out why you're tired?"
"There's no convenient time for surgery, but it's even less convenient if you don't give yourself time to recover."
Then we had a good conversation about aging parents and forgiveness and the emergent church and a great pastor we both know and love...well, all manner of things. I'm pretty sure it made him run late to his next patient but it was just about the best doctor's appointment I've had in a long time. Even if it was in a restroom.