I had to postpone hip-replacement surgery at the last minute. A day of mishaps culminated in postponing major surgery because of a cat.
My day should have gone like this … a 9 AM appointment at the hospital to complete paperwork and have blood drawn. At 11:15, I was to drop off the cats, Rudy and River, at A Country Cat House, a posh hotel for felines, and be at work by lunch. Easy, right?
I got up extra early to take pain pills because it takes about 20 minutes for them to fully take effect. I usually check my email while I wait. After getting dressed, I looked for my car key. Nowhere to be found.
After 30 minutes of searching, I had to call AAA to get a replacement. It would take about an hour and a half to get there, and it would be $125 with my AAA membership.
When I tried to call, there was no signal in my house. I had to walk across the street from my townhouse to get one.
After fruitlessly searching for Rudy, I crossed the street again to call the hospital to explain the situation. They told me it wasn’t a problem.
AAA shows up at 10:45 and fixes the key situation. Ready to go.
I go back inside, hoping to wrangle the cats into the carrier. Rudy, a Siamese mix, realizes what’s about to happen and bolts. He found a secure hiding place well out of my reach.
Now I needed to call Josie, the concierge at the cat hotel, to update her. I went back across the street in search of a signal.
The owner said, “No problem. Take your time. He will come out from his hiding place.”
When I got to the hospital, I encountered a flaky phlebotomist. She screwed up the protocol and disappeared the moment her shift ended, just as the problem was discovered. Her poor replacement walked in to start her shift and had to figure out how to fix it.
The problem? When undergoing surgery on the left side, hospital bracelets must be worn on the right wrist. The flaky phlebotomist had gotten it backward. The blood draw had to be redone to ensure accuracy. An appointment that should have taken an hour took almost two hours.
When I returned home, Rudy was still nowhere to be found. River, my other cat, was already in the carrier and not too happy about it. I went back across the street to call the cat hotel to give an update.
“Don’t worry. Relax and have some calming tea.”
I did worry. I had a mind-numbing shot of vodka instead.
If I were going to be away for a couple of days, I could have improvised by leaving out lots of food and water. But I was going to be gone for three weeks.
By 4 PM, I knew I was going to have to cancel the surgery. The clock had run out. I went back across the street to call the surgeon’s office and explain the very embarrassing situation.
I started with, “I have a situation and need to postpone the surgery tomorrow.“
“Ooookay. It’s kind of late. What’s the situation?”
At that point, I just blurted it out … “I can’t find my cat!”
(Silence)
“You can’t find your … “
“My cat. Yes. I can’t find my cat!”
I tried to explain the situation better. I imagine it was barely coherent – borderline hysterical.
The office manager was understanding, but I knew this was a big deal. It’s not just a routine doctor’s visit you’re canceling. It’s an entire surgical team, complete with an operating room full of replacement parts just for you.
After rescheduling for the next available date, she told me there would be a hefty cancellation fee. What could I say?
After everything was squared away, I went back inside to change clothes and decompress. Within 20 minutes of sitting down, Rudy peeked around the sofa to see if the coast was clear. We looked at each other, and both declared the day DONE!
Before having the rescheduled surgery, I had to see the surgeon to get fresh X-rays and refill my prescriptions. The office manager came out of her office first to see how I was doing and second to tell me that she had never, in her entire career, heard of anyone canceling surgery because of a misplaced cat. We had a good laugh.
At every post-surgical follow-up, there would be lots of whispered questions: “How’s Rudy?”
I can only laugh. What else can you do?
