I checked Rachel into surgery this morning at Mount Zion.

I love Mount Zion hospital. When you walk in, if you circumnavigate the front desk, you'll find a very happy little meditation room. Really it's a little cheesy, not comfortable to sit in actually, but there is the sound of a little rock garden fountain, and some stained glass on the wall. On the whole a nicer place to sit than a waiting room.

I like all the familiar names at MZ. The lobby is the Rhoda Goldman lobby, for instance. I feel like these people decorate my day - the Goldmans and the Haases and the Korets. Hooray for philanthropists. I'd love to be a philanthropist someday. I like to think I'd be good at it.

I learned about types this morning. Rachel is the type that asks thousands of questions, to the point of irritating the nurses, doctors and anesthesiologists. I am the type that cracks incessant and inappropriate jokes. I don't want to know details, I just want to be distracted. I wondered where the calypso music was. If I were going to sit in a prep room for 2 hours, I'd want calypso music.

Matilda.
Matilda.
Matilda, she take me money and run anesthesia.

Dr. Morpheus was something to behold. I thought about medical school as soon as we met. He couldn't have been older than 31. Great skin, nice shoes. I think his name was Leo, which is an odd name for a Jew, but you never can tell. Maybe in a bizarre twist, his mother hoped he'd be an artist.

Now I'm at work and Rachel must be just about finishing up. I don't like thinking about the contorted position she's in right now, about which I have too much information. I don't like thinking about the blood or her skin, which was very pale when I left. She'll be fine. Better than I'd be, no doubt. When the trouble comes, I won't be ready for it.