Battle scars and the secrets they reveal

Yesterday I had an early morning appointment to have a "procedure" done at my small town hospital.

We left the house at 6:40 a.m. for a 7:00 a.m. appointment.

I was 15 minutes.early.

So, I found a comfy chair and waited around in the front receptionist area for 10 minutes.

Who happened to walk by but the CFO of the hospital who S and have spent time with at auctions around town. We met him and his family when he first moved to town a little after we did. He lives just down the block from us. We talked for 5 minutes, then he walked me over to the patient check-in window.

The receptionist was one of the office workers from my doctor's office and didn't take long to gather my information. She then walked me over to where my procedure was to be done, just down the hall to pre-op/recovery.

The nurse who brought me my gown was the mother of a girl on C's softball team. We talked about their first game taking place that night while she inserted an IV and took my BP and vitals.

She handed me off to two other nurses who prepped me further, made me comfy on the table and talked me through the procedure. One of the nurses was a mother/parent I knew from PTO. The other was the grandmother of the girl who babysits for us on occasion.

The Doc came in...my family practitioner. He got settled, started in on the procedure and I was out.

Woke up to the kindly face of yet another nurse. Wait, something was wrong. I didn't know her nor did she know me.

Nevertheless, she gently guided me to the recovery room next door. We chatted while she pulled my IV out and I feasted on a delicious blueberry muffin, juice and coffee. You guess it, the muffin was homemade.

After I started to feel human again, I told her that I had planned on walking home, since I only lived two blocks away.

She insisted on driving me home and a few minutes later, I was sitting on my couch, drinking ice tea and trying to remember everything that just happened.

9 hours later, I was siting on the front porch, eating 50/50 bars with the girls and enjoying the cooling evening temps.

My doc had come jogging by on his nitely 5-miler and stopped to talk and visit with the girls. He told me how well my procedure went and then warned us to get inside before the bugs got too thick.

Glass is half-full people are now thinking, "wow, what a friendly and neighborly medical experience that was in your small town."

Glass is half-empty people are thinking, "now everyone in town knows what procedure you had done, the results, and about that little scar you have on your butt."

Such is life in my small town.

Least they don't know how I GOT that little scar on my butt.