Hi Meanness

Zach lay quietly on the stretcher bed in the pre-op area, staring up at the ceiling lights. In a few minutes the anesthesiologist would stop by to put him under. His shaved head was covered by a skull cap to keep him warm while he waited. He had been a nervous wreck the night before, unable to sleep. Now, all he wanted was to sleep. He wouldn’t even need anesthesia.

He could hear voices on the other side of the curtain, but couldn’t quite understand what they were saying. Were they talking about him? His surgeon had been very upbeat about his chances. “Brain surgery is much more exact now, not like it was only a few years ago. The science has come a long way.”

Zach was pleased to hear it, of course, but he had done his own research on line. Chances of survival had indeed improved. It was up to 50% now. On the other hand, chances for a return to a normal life, also improved, were only about 25%. He fingered the sheets that covered his gowned body wondering if he was experiencing his last moments of consciousness. All the paperwork had been done. He left his lawyer specific instructions about what he wanted if he didn’t make it. It had been much more difficult to decide what to do if he survived and didn’t return to normal. After all, he was only 39. He had a wife and two children. And he wasn’t wealthy.

He heard voices again and this time he thought he recognized one of them. Someone pulled back the curtain. It was Courtney. “Looks like you’re ready, honey,” she said.

He could tell she was fighting back tears. He reached for her hand. “I just hope Doctor Remolina is ready,” Zach said. “They say he’s the best.” A nurse looked through the curtain and said, “Five minutes, Mr. Goldstein.”

“You know I’ll be waiting for you as soon as you come out of recovery. Zach, I just know that you’ll look at me and smile. You’ll say, ‘Hi Meanness,’ just the way you always like to tease me.” She was crying now.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to say. Unless this doctor does a lousy job. You’ll know when I call you, Melissa, that he screwed up.” Melissa was Zach’s first wife.

Courtney laughed a little as she wiped away her tears. She bent down and kissed her husband. “I love you.” He squeezed her hand. The couple had said all the important things in the days and nights before that morning. Now, it was a matter of waiting, praying and one last acknowledgment of their love for each other.

The nurse opened the curtain. “It’s time,” she said. Courtney kissed Zach again and left. The anesthesiologist walked in and looked at Zach’s chart. He asked him to say his name and date of birth. “I’m going to start you off with a sedative, Mr. Goldstein.”

As the nurse rolled his stretcher bed into the operating room, he looked up at her face. She was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, or was it the sedative, already playing tricks on him? Once in the OR,  he was greeted by Doctor Remolina. “Zach, I’m ready if you are. Shall we proceed to make you well again?”   

Zach reached out and took Doctor Remolina’s hand. “Since you’re going in there anyway, can you make me smarter?” The doctor laughed as if he had never heard that one before. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be able to do my job, I promise.” That was the last thing Zach heard. As if on cue, the anesthesiologist started the IV solution and Zach was out.

Doctor Remolina hated doing this kind of surgery. Failure always depressed him. Much worse though, was having to face the families, who put their trust in him, with bad news. That morning he was feeling optimistic. The x-rays of Zach’s brain were promising. When he cut through to his patient’s brain though, his optimism quickly faded. It would take the best work of his career to give Zach a fighting chance.

As always, another neurosurgeon assisted. The two doctors worked for more than six hours before closing. When Doctor Remolina met with Courtney, he was honest. “Well, we’ll know soon enough. I’m not entirely confident about the outcome, but I am very hopeful.”     

That evening, Zach started to show some restlessness. He was waking up. One of the recovery room nurses called the doctor. He walked in and examined Zach, checking his vital signs and trying to communicate with his patient. He looked at the nurse and frowned. “Let’s give it another hour. He was under for a long time.”  Shoulders slumped, he walked slowly to the elevator. He was tired. 

The nurse continued to monitor Zach, hoping for some response. Courtney met her at the nurse’s station and asked to see her husband. That certainly wasn’t the protocol, but the nurse was tired too. She allowed it. Courtney practically ran into the room. She approached Zach’s bed, tears running down her cheeks, happy or sad, she would know soon enough. She had seen the doctor’s worried face. She said his name, “Zach?”

Zach opened his eyes. “Hi Meanness.”  The best kind of tears, happy.