I really enjoyed the parody of ‘Back in the Saddle Again’ in your last post. But why didn’t you include the second stanza? No good reason, I suppose. So, by popular demand, here it is:

Back in the E.R. once more/With a catheter bag on the floor/Will the Good Lord hear my plea/So I finally get to pee/Back in the E.R. again. (It works better if you know Gene Autry’s original, which can be accessed here.)

Barbara and I were heading into Jerusalem by bus – not the #164 (which gets you to the light rail station at Ammunition Hill usually in 15 minutes) – but the #174 (which goes on the highway to the Central Bus Station usually in 35 minutes). We were supposed to get on the light rail from there and head out to our appointments with Barbara’s orthopedist. My needs were simple, get a piece of paper that would entitle me to a new pair of midrasim (orthodics) at a bargain rate. But Barbara is dealing with her back, her arthritis, and her knee, hoping to get some advice on a new experimental treatment that would forestall the need for a knee replacement. But while we were on the bus, approaching the new French Hill tunnel, Barbara’s phone rang. Sorry, but Dr. Tim had an emergency (unspecified) and can’t see you today. We’ll get back to you with a new appointment.

The thing about medicine here in The Land is that the quality is high, the cost is low, but the wait time is absurdly long. Barbara waited several months to get these appointments, and now…..? The website shows the next available appointment is in April. It doesn’t seem right.

Speaking of which, I’ve been letting people know that my procedure is scheduled for Sun. March 1, but under my breath I’ve been mumbling, providing that there’s no war going on and the surgeon, Dr. Amitay Lorber, isn’t called for miluim and the whole thing gets postponed at the last minute, and I’m stuck with this catheter for another three months, six months. At first, this idea was simply idle speculation, but now it’s in the could-happen category, and I’m starting to get worried (or better, more worried), and my stress-ometer was already in the red zone.

(As much as possible, I’ve tried to limit any discussion of Politics in my posts, because I know that everyone out there (gasp!) does not share my family’s feelings of intense negativity to the current administrations of the two countries in which we are citizens, and why stir the pot unnecessarily? However, as I’m quick to point out, it’s scary how much of our lives – especially here in The Land – are affected by the decisions – good, bad, or indifferent – of those in power somewhere in the world, whether it’s about the cost and availability of a container of milk in our local supermarket – that’s obvious – or the damage caused by the suffocating dust being blown in from North Africa – not so obvious.

Sometimes, however, sometimes you can’t ignore the connection staring you in the face, like when one country tries to change the government of another country in ways that are less-than-subtle. I have at least one friend who is sick and tired of hearing me mention that our troubles with Iran date back to the 1950’s, when the C.I.A. deposed the democratically elected government in Iran and installed the Shah, and we all know how well that has turned out. I would be more inclined to ‘take one for the team’ – assuming there is a war, which is far from certain – if I foresaw a positive outcome from the U.S., and perhaps Israel, invading Iran by land, sea, and air.  [I’m thinking Bay of Pigs, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan.] But all I see are ill winds a-blowin’ and a shift or two in the shelter of one’s choice.)

I was dreading Monday morning (Mon. Feb.23) for months now, not for what will happen, but getting out to the hospital at Ein Kerem at 8:45AM for my pre-op appointment, which would mean getting up at something like 5AM. We have all the test results and paperwork the hospital has asked for and, besides telling me what to expect and what I need to do, maybe – and this is a longshot – someone there will know the protocol if they are going to cancel me. I will report back tomorrow – assuming I am still awake when I get home.

It was not what I wanted to do, set my alarm clock to go off at 5AM, but it had to be done if we were going to get out on time. It’s not that I’m never awake at that time – Pooms will howl at random times throughout the night whenever she’s hungry. But with our cat, I can, and will, go back to sleep once a satisfactory food offering is placed in front of her. Anyway, Barbara and I did get out on time and arrived at Ein Kerem even before the pre-op office opened at 8AM. They got us in and out in two hours, which might be a new high level of efficiency. We saw one nurse and then another nurse, and then an anesthesiologist, a urologist, and then back to the second nurse. By the time we left, the hospital staff had recorded my pertinent information several times, and I had some idea what was going to happen and what I needed to do.

But what about the BIG QUESTION, what happens if Trump attacks Iran in the next few days? Nobody had a specific answer, as in: If there is any change in the schedule for your procedure for any reason, you will be contacted by phone. Otherwise….. What I was able to determine is that if there is a war, all non-emergency surgery will be cancelled, and my procedure does not qualify as an emergency, even though I’ve been sporting a catheter since last May (which I guess PROVES it’s not an emergency). So like the rest of the world, I will wait for developments as they occur, because if there’s a plan, nobody in these parts knows what it is.

The next installment will be about my procedure or why it didn’t happen; either way it won’t be until next week.