But, my expertise anywhere below the chin is limited. Things appeared more or less normal down there. Evidently, there was uncertainty about snipping the correct item. Instead, the idea was more like a follow up to check if removal of my spleen in 2017 “took” or not. If I had just received a replacement kidney or something – where a chance existed the body might reject the transplant – I would understand. So much for not bumping into anyone.ĭeparting the medical center, written instructions included setting up an appointment six weeks down the road to “make sure the procedure takes.” This didn’t seem necessary. Nice to see you again,” said a former assistant from the Kansas City dental school I had attended. It didn’t take long.Ī door swung open and a nurse walked in. I listened to Kenny G play background music waiting for someone to join me. Not long after I arrived for the appointment, I was on my back spread-eagled with a sheet over me and feet in stirrups for the first (and hopefully last) time in my life. At least I wouldn’t bump into any familiar faces there during the process.Īn available date on the calendar coincided with plans to be in the vicinity. A bit uncomfortable at the time asking someone in the community to wield the scissors, I set up an appointment with a urologist in Kansas City recommended by a physician who had taken excellent care of me years earlier. Under pressure, I was volunteered as the one to take the necessary steps to halt production of infants in the family.
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