The day begins with hope. And an empty stomach. Breakfast? Ordered, but not served. I’m to stay fasting – maybe my operation is scheduled for today. I’m ready. Mentally somewhat composed, physically on standby mode anyway.
1:45 PM: MRI. I’m brought in by wheelchair. So far, so good. Until I stand in front of the MRI machine and ask how I’m supposed to get onto the table. The answer? A snappy remark:
“You’re young. Just hop over on one leg.”
I think to myself: Sure. If I were healthy, I could probably hop from Basel to Zurich. But with this 1.5-kilo cast on my leg and zero experience moving like this? Balance is another thing. I was never impaired before. No idea how to ‘transfer’ properly on one leg.
Fortunately, a colleague of the MRI technician is there. She sees I’m struggling, helps me right away, supports me calmly. No big words. Just done.
Afterwards: briefing. Anesthesia. Pre-op prep. I change, stand there in the hospital gown – ready.
And then the doctor arrives: cancellation.
“Too many emergencies today.” The surgery is postponed. New date: Wednesday, May 7.
I’m allowed to go home. And even though I had psych myself up for the operation – I’m almost relieved. Another day or two out of the hospital. Out of waiting.
But now I know: this is just the beginning.