Tragic Sandwich

So here’s the schedule: arrive at the surgical center at noon. Surgery at 1:15, lasting about 90 minutes. Recovery time, etc., figure we’ll be home late afternoon.

Here’s what happened:

12:00 Arrive at surgical center. Told the doctor is running about 30 minutes behind.

12:45 Told the doctor is running an hour behind.

1:30 Mr. Sandwich is taken back to prep for his surgery. I go to move the car.

1:40 I return to the waiting room to find Mr. Sandwich, who has been sent back due to the delay.

2:00 Mr. Sandwich is taken back again.

3:25 The doctor comes out to tell me that he will start in about 5 minutes. (I immediately–and, as it turns out, correctly–surmise that Mr. Sandwich has sent him.)

4:10 I tell the only remaining member of the office staff that I, the only remaining person in the waiting room, am about to cross the street so that I can buy another book at Barnes & Noble.

4:30 I return to find myself locked out of the waiting room. Eventually, someone lets me back in.

5:55 A nurse tells me that Mr. Sandwich’s surgery is almost done, and he should be going to recovery soon.

6:30 The doctor comes out and tells me about how the surgery went (generally well) and what Mr. Sandwich will need to do–and not do–over the next 10 days as he recovers. I know that none of this news is going to make Mr. Sandwich happy.

6:45 A nurse comes to get me so that I can sit with Mr. Sandwich as he is in recovery.

8:00 We finally leave.

Of course, then I had to get him settled at home, call family members, figure out what each of us was going to eat (I’d had lunch before we left, but he’d had nothing since the previous midnight), and go back out to get his prescriptions filled. So it wound up being a very long day, which started with Mr. Sandwich in a dressing and bandage that covered his finger, and ended with him in a cast from above his elbow to beyond his fingertips. He’s got a sling for when he’s walking around, and he’s supposed to keep it elevated as much as possible.