The 2 surgeons, dressed in scrubs and severe faces, stood at my bedside for a pre-op convention. “Perhaps we must have a snack first,” Physician Sam instructed to her colleague. “No. We need to wait till after the surgical procedures,” Physician Katie made up our minds. Physician Sam, a primary grader, nodded and nudged me backward onto the sofa, the place I lay flat whilst she measured me in a vertical line from neck to waist. In the meantime, Physician Katie, a fourth grader, sat close by, operating on a stack of consent paperwork. She passed me the sheets and mentioned, “You must signal they all — and don’t skip any pages.” Illegible squiggles crammed the areas above every signature line, and I requested what I used to be in fact signing. “Oh, simply stuff that shall we us do the surgical procedures, after which you must pay us, despite the fact that … .” She did a “c’est los angeles vie” shrug. I had a foul feeling about this, however I scrawled my signature 13 occasions and discovered, too past due, that every of the consent paperwork discussed surgical procedures. Plural.
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