Yesterday, I went along with Angela for her first ever endoscopy, but this post isn’t about digestive troubles (as exciting as such things may be–and yes, everything is fine).
Angela was specifically instructed that she would not be permitted to leave the hospital by herself, since she would be fairly drugged up for the procedure itself and might still be loopy when they sent her home.
I had the following conversation with the nurse who admitted Angela shortly after we arrived:
Nurse: “You have your car parked down in the garage, right?”
Nurse: “How did you get here?!”
Me: “We took the bus?”
Nurse: “How will you be getting home ?!?!”
Me: “Well I’d thought we’d see how she was doing, and either take the bus or call a cab.”
Nurse: (suspiciously) “Hmm…a cab…I guess that’s OK…but she CANNOT ride the bus. You HAVE to take her home in a cab. She might fall or something on the bus.”
I took her admonitions seriously, and expected a seriously loopy Angela once they finally released her. As I waited in the appropriate location for her to be released, having secured sufficient cash for a cab ride home, I was surprised when a fairly perky Angela was delivered to me by wheelchair. She popped right up and we headed outside to address our transportation options. She very vociferously insisted that she was perfectly capable of riding a bus and there was no need for a cab. The nurse wasn’t looking, so I decided we could risk it.
Um. Yeah. She was completely fine. I’m pretty sure we’ve both ridden the bus more impaired by, say, a couple beers, many times in the past. What did the nurse think would really happen on a quiet mid-day bus? It’s not like Angela was driving the bus.