… was just that, a visit—to see her friend, Sarah-Architect (the patient). Allow me to explain:

Sarah had her tonsils removed April 4. Tonsillectomy is more complicated in adults than in children for some reason, and Sarah was having a painful recovery. This was to be expected. Still, Sarah’s recovery was on the high end of the spectrum, difficulty-wise. She had a lot of pain and at one point last week, she woke up with her throat very swollen and had to go into the doctor for steroids.

Monday she was easing back into work, still very tired and in pain, but at ten days post-op, eager to get back into her life. Then, at 3:45 a.m. in the middle of Monday night, Steve answered a call from a very upset Sarah. She said she had woken up with blood pouring out of her mouth. Before you go thinking this was an exaggeration, when Steve arrived to drive her to the ER, he said she was holding a bath towel soaked in blood, and she was holding it like a bowl, which was full of blood.

At the ER, her bleeding stopped on its own. That’s good, since (a) if that doesn’t happen, they have to inject something into the bleed-site and cauterize, and (b) none of the doctors on duty in the ER that night knew this; they were stumped as to how they would handle it if the bleeding didn’t stop. By the time Violet and I arrived, Sarah was shaking but de-adrenalizing. There was blood spattered on her face, arms, and clothes. She said her bathroom looked like a crime scene.

I’m happy to report that everything turned out fine in the end, and her doctor assures her this is so rare it’s NOT going to happen again. Little consolation to someone who lost a night’s sleep and, says Sarah, “a really good towel.”

The St. John’s ER at 3:45 a.m. Tuesday morning was a surreal place to be. Sarah was the only patient. Nothing is locked anywhere, and there are no security guards out front or anything. Steve says that when he and Sarah arrived, they had to find someone to help them. In the waiting room, it was just the three of us and a homeless guy using the single-occupant restroom to take a crap. Eventually, they let all three of us (the homeless guy had left), plus Sarah’s boyfriend (he had to arrive from the other side of the city) hang out with Sarah back at the gurney where they were keeping an eye on her.

Sarah says that when she was taken back to the gurneys, the room suddenly filled with eager medical students assessing the situation: “What have we got?” “Tonsillectomy?” “Ten days post-op?” Um, yeah, we’re gonna need George Clooney to the ER. STAT.