I hadn't been a surgical patient since I had had my appendix out when I was seventeen. Of course, I knew a lot of people who had had hysterectomies, and was under the impression that it was no big deal. If this would put an end to my problems and give me a chance of regaining my former good health, of course I would do it. And, in a way, I was glad it could be done so near home. My husband often accuses me of being as "bean counter." This means that I tend to look at the little things and reduce things to their lowest terms, rather than seeing the big picture. Once again, I was counting beans. This would be the simplest way of ending the bleeding. This would be an easy trip to make. This would surely be the most cost-effective way of doing it.

I agreed, and made an appointment for the pre-admission blood work, X-rays, and electrocardiogram. Little did I know.....

On the day of my appointment, I did everything I was supposed to do, showing up showered, apprehensive, and empty. The blood tests were routine. The chest X-ray was perfectly normal, as was the cardiogram. It looked like I was a good candidate for surgery. Then I went to the nursing supervisor's office where I was to meet with the anesthetist and the surgeon. I said this was a very small hospital, but little did I know.

The anesthetist was a young woman (old enough to have any experience? as old as my own daughter?) dressed very casually in jeans and a pony tail. She looked more like a flower child than a professional. Could I put my faith in her? I didn't think so. She asked me whether I had any hearing problems or vision problems. No, to the hearing, and reading glasses to the vision. Then she asked if I had any expensive dental work. Oh, God! Yes, I did. I have four teeth bridged, five teeth capped, and everything bonded on the top. My "million dollar" smile was something of an inside joke. Would you believe that with the weight loss, even my teeth felt too big? Sounds crazy, but it's true. Actually, it's not even close to a million dollar smile, but it did cost over five thousand dollars. She paused, thinking about my dental work. "You know, if any of your teeth are chipped or broken, the hospital if not liable," she said. Hmmm, I thought....

Then the nursing supervisor gave me a consent form to sign. I was dumb enough to read it before I signed. I was consenting to everything up to and including death. No! I couldn't sign that.

Bad turned to worse when she gave me the guided tour of the operating room. The hospital had only one operating room, and the hallway near the nurses' station served as a recovery room. Then I was shown a typical patient room, and told, "Be sure to bring your own pillows and blankets." A hospital that was going to knock out my teeth? A hospital where I had to bring my own pillows and blankets? I took it for granted that the hospital would provide beds!

Hey, this was my life and my future they were talking about. It was time for me to take some control. I had spent too long trying in vain to find a solution. I was still whispering, croaking, bleeding, losing weight, and vomiting. I walked out.

I wasn't proud of myself, but I guess I did what I had to do. I simply could not trust my life to a kid who would break out my caps and bridgework (at MY expense), an recovery room that was a public hallway, and a hospital that didn't even have pillows and blankets. I made my decision. It was to be the best decision I have ever made, and the one that saved my life. I asked for a referral to a specialist in a larger facility. It was time to stop playing around and get serious. I wanted (needed?) the biggest and the best. And, by God, I was going to get it. I was referred to the chief of gynecological oncology at Sloan Kettering, a major cancer research hospital in New York. I was in the big leagues now, and that's exactly where I needed to be. I can honestly say I owe my life to Sloan Kettering.

If this story has a moral, it's never trust a hospital that doesn't have its own pillows.