Robby's surgery is Friday and, although I realize it is a minor procedure, my nerves are beginning to take fray. I know that the surgery is necessary, but it feels unnatural putting his well-being and safety in the hands of others. I am sure that this stems from my control-seeking tendencies.
Between fielding phone calls from the hospital, navigating through my insurance and securing the correct pre-op paperwork and testing, I am fairly certain that my time investment exceeds the time Robby will be in the operating room. The pre-op paperwork, obviously a one-form-fits-everybody document, took me nearly 45 minutes to complete. Questions ranged from generic to the absurdly detailed, requiring both simple check marks and verbose written explanations. "Are you pregnant?" was followed by "If no, please explain your certainty." Not knowing what to say, I simply wrote that "I know with certainty that I am not pregnant because I am a 7 year old boy."
The tricky wording of each question reminded me of the LSATs, forcing me to carefully read each word to choose the correct response. Double negatives and trick questions kept me from simply checking "no" by rote. Had I not read the questions carefully, I would have agreed that Robby didn't have an active heart rate, that he was on a liquid diet and he consumed alcoholic beverages.
Each of the 175 questions, with spaces for explanation, were required to be completed before the form could be accepted for submission. I was asked marital status (single) and occupation (elementary student) three separate times! By the time I was finally finished with the forms I was ready to bang my head against the wall in frustration.