Of urologists and airline rules

After posting yesterday morning I went to take my shower. Removing the gauze from over the incision made in my recent hydrocelectomy, there was enough fresh blood to alarm me a bit, not to mention that the wound itself looked pretty gruesome. I had called my urologist's office on Tuesday, only to find out that he would not be in until Wednesday afternoon. I suppose at that point I should have pressed to be seen by someone else in his group, but I figured I was probably just being paranoid anyway, so I let it go. But the blood and general ugliness yesterday morning made me leave early so I could stop by the emergency room on the way to the airport. (There don't seem to be any urgent care clinics in our town, just emergency rooms.)

7:30 on a Wednesday morning when classes are not in session is apparently not a busy time for ERs where I live, so I was able to get in pretty quickly. The ER doc said she never saw post-op hydrocele repair patients, so she thought she'd likely have to call in a urologist, but she would take a look anyway. She clearly did not like what she saw and indicated that she would indeed call in a urologist, but she didn't know how long it might take. I said I had a flight to catch in two hours. She said, emphatically, "I would not be getting on a plane with a wound that looked like that." The wound was "dehiscent," she said -- my new vocabulary word of the day. (From the Latin dehiscere, meaning "to dehisce." I hope that clears things up. Actually, it means "gaping open," which is just what you want to hear about a wound in that particular area.)

While I was waiting, I decided I'd call the airline and see what my options were if I missed my flight. It will come as no surprise to frequent travelers that I basically had a choice between being moderately screwed and being royally screwed. Never mind that I was actually in an emergency room. There was not the slightest flexibility, not the remotest conception of customer service, friendliness, or "we'll do what we can to keep your business." It was going to cost me something, and the only question was how much. I hate airlines.

Eventually the urologist came, and it happened to be my own surgeon. He seemed to feel a bit bad that I had been basically forced to make an ER visit to do what could have been done in his office. But he took one look at the wound and said, "Oh, that's fine. These scrotal wounds are always goopy. It's healing quite normally. Just keep gauze on it and you'll be fine." Whew!

On my way out I saw the ER doc again. "Apparently, that's how it's supposed to look," I said, "but it certainly looked worrisome to me." "Me too," she said. So at least I know I wasn't being paranoid. It did occur to me later that the urologist could have saved me a bit of trouble by warning me about the "goopiness," but that's a minor point. Not only did I leave feeling quite reassured, but I made my flight. So here I am. The conference starts after lunch, so I have plenty of time to say Morning Prayer, exercise, and possibly think up more instructions for preachers.