The phone rang.

I saw that it was the surgeon’s office. Probably reminding me that my surgery is in two days.

“Hello.”

“This is Dr. F_______’s office. I’m calling to–”

“Remind me that my surgery is in two days. Yes, I remembered.”

“–your surgery has been cancelled.”

“What?”

“Dr. F_______ discovered that the hospital doesn’t have all the equipment that he needs. He’ll call you tomorrow to discuss your options.”

It was like a kick in the belly.

All my best laid plans to schedule the surgery over the Labor Day holiday so that I’d miss the damned Budweiser Made Deaf in America concert had gang aft agley.

The surgeon did call me the next day. He said he was referring me to another surgeon, as hard as that was for him to do, because after consulting with him, they had mutually agreed that the new surgeon had the facilities to guarantee a higher chance of a fully satisfactory outcome with a minimally invasive procedure.

He was also able to get me on the schedule in one week.

Of course, that meant I had to visit the surgeon and also see a new cardiologist because the venue had changed.

I won’t dwell on that week. I’ll just say that it was possibly the longest week I’ve ever lived through.