Final Preparations

With less than 2 days until D-Day, I’ve got Europe’s “Final Countdown” running through my head. Of course, Final Countdown brings mixed memories. The song reminds me of Arrested Development’s Gob performing magic tricks and making a high school mix tape – Final Countdown was the first song on Side A of the CasEtri. It’s a tough call which is more fitting of a knee surgery countdown.

I met with my OS this morning to go over the last-minute paperwork. Most of it was routine – hearing the standard admonition not to eat or drink after midnight; receiving a prescription for powerful narcotics; and signing a waiver acknowledging all the bad possible outcomes (always a personal favorite for lawyer-patients). I did, however, learn something new. My surgeon’s starting his own practice in 2009. He spent the first 20 or so years on his own before joining the current practice a number of years ago. He brought his own staff with him then, and all of them are leaving with him now. His new practice opens January 1st.

My first thought – Oh, shit. Will he still be on my insurance plan? This doesn’t impact the Dec. 31st surgery, but might impact the dozens of follow-up appointments. EOBs full of evil out-of-network charges instantly flashed before my eyes. But Turgeon says the insurance won’t change. He picked all of his insurance carriers and medical supply contacts prior to joining his current practice, and he’ll keep them when he opens his own office. At this point, BCBS still lists him as a “preferred provider” for 2009, but it also still shows his old address. As my father wisely counsels, it’s beyond my control so there’s no need to worry right now.

After leaving the doctor’s office, it was time to pick up some last-minute items. We went to Dougherty’s Pharmacy, which, fittingly, resembles a 1950’s Mom & Pop Dime Store. In fact, I think most of the shoppers in the store today could’ve been customers in the 50’s, too. Except for the cashier, Christina and I were the only folks younger than 350 years old. All of the store signs were written in 48-point font.

A tad bit embarrassed, I asked the cashier where the shower seats and, ahem, toiler seat risers were located. At first, I wanted to lie and tell him the items were for an elderly relative. No dice. I quickly gave myself away when I started “test-driving” the different toilet seat risers. I’m not kidding. I took a couple of mock poops before making my final selection.

The store offered 2 options: (1) the toilet seat shaped like a walker with a slender bowl-rim suspended in the middle, and (2) the oversized toilet cover that rises like a skyscraper 5 inches above the bowl. After hurriedly squatting back-and-forth between my toilet seat options like an antsy 4-year old, I settled on the oversized riser. Made by Nova, the heavily molded toilet seat provides luxurious comfort, as well as side handles that allow me to push off back to my feet. I consider it the Cadillac of raised toilet seats. I have a feeling I won’t want to give it up even after my knee heals. I know George Costanza wouldn’t. For my shower seat, I chose a basic white bench with a single red handle, completing our bathroom renovation. Unfortunately, Dougherty’s refused to throw in a free Driving Miss Daisy DVD.

Anyway, here's the bottom line:

Toilet seat riser -- $85.

Shower seat -- $55.

Geriatric purchase experience? Priceless.