I make it to the office, send out a couple of emails and then get the call from the folks that they are waiting downstairs. I get down to the bottom and need to make two trips to the car and amuse the security guards, all of whom know me, being the amicable guy that I am. They wish me the best of luck and I hop into the car with Dad and Mom. Ah yes, I forgot to mention that I balanced my Tae Kwon Do black belt certificate under my arm on the way down the stairs and made sure not to put my stuff in the trunk. I instruct Mom and Dad that laptop bag and TKD certificate must not be left in the car and must be brought into the hospital (you never know what gets stolen in this crazy New York City.)

We arrive at the hospital—Lenox Hill on 77th and Lex, surgical home for many famous athletes, especially the Knicks and Nets—and I am required to show ID and check in. Incredibly I actually need the ID since I walked right into the other branch without someone so much as asking me a single question. We go up 3 flights in the elevator and arrive at pre-admittance. Mom gets to hold all of my electronic items and valuables as I go into a frigidly cold room to change into a gown and robe along with these ultra cool socks (that was a joke—they are these throwaway black socks.) Then I get to go back to the waiting area pre-surgery where I get my pulse checked, heart rate taken and all those questions about allergies and what you’re having done asked of you.

The waiting area where I was in is actually also a release area which contains about four beds across from us where patients are released after surgery. Some of them are moved into the chairs when they feel better and looking at the patients in bed, they didn’t all look too thrilled, lol!

I was seated between two very nice women. On my right was a lovely older black lady, approximately 55 named Ms. Green. She had problems with her left knee and Dr. Michael Kelly, apparently performed an arthroscopy on her and she has been thrilled with it. She has no clue what is wrong with the left but is back to have it checked since it hasn’t healed in over 6 months. She cannot climb the stairs out of the subway and this cannot continue, nor the pain that accompanies it. She says so many nice things about Dr. Kelly both his skill and personality, and tells me not to worry about my knee, which seems to be some serious surgery.

On my left was a strawberry blond woman whose face I could not completely make out because I didn’t have my glasses but I could see her very warm smile. She said she just had her 45th birthday but didn’t look it. She hurt her leg at 16 when she fell into a hole and since then, coupled with numerous ski trip injuries, has damaged cartilege several times. She too raves the same about Dr. Kelly both about skill and satisfaction with the surgery as well as his nice treatment of her and family. She also reassures me that my surgery will go superbly. I’m not sure if she already had her surgery and whether they moved her from one of the beds.

My worried mother (more worried than I) gets pulled into the room to see how I’m doing. Soon I’m removed since they need my chair. There are also beds ahead of me where recent patients are placed and I see one man who looks a little pale and as though he went through a lot worse than me. Later I found out he had a full knee replacement so that explained his look of bewilderment and general grogginess from being pumped full of meds. Well, can’t look too long because I’m sent back into the waiting room, gown and all.

I chat with my nervous parents for a while until Dr. Kelly’s anasthesiologist comes out to ask me a few questions. Super nice guy, looks a little young but I feel very confident with him. Thereafter Dr. Kelly’s “fellow” comes out who will perform the surgery with him. She lets me ask her questions about anything and everything including the allograft surgery. I ask again if this is really the right thing to do versus a patella autograft. She says that the “gold standard” is no longer really such a true gold standard, especially over the past few years, 2 in specific. I’m not so crazy about some of her answers and I’m wondering if she’s just mollifying me before surgery. Whatever, I’m doing what I’m doing and Dr. Kelly recommended I go allo and he’s no quack. Dr. Kelly comes out and smiles and asks me how I’m doing. I’m at a loss for words and just say I’m doing well. He’s a good guy. I have no more questions. I’m ready to move.

The female Fellow writes “BAD” or something like that on my left knee and also provides me with one last piece of paperwork. I may have a torn meniscus and in addition to the ACL reconstruction, I must give permission to my main man, Dr. Michael Kelly, to perform the surgery. He told me after reading the MRIs that he is reluctant to perform surgery unless necessary. He saw what might be a “tiny tear” that may require either (a) nothing since it is so small to heal by itself or is just a fleck on the MRI, (b) a tiny “tug” that will start the meniscus tear to heal or (c) suturing the small tear together or trimming it if necessary. I’m hoping for choice “a” of course.

I sign the papers and we’re ready to rumble. I walk down the hall into an incredibly bright white room. It’s all illuminated and some modern pop music is playing that agrees with me. I joke about it. I’m placed on the table which has two arms across reminding me of the crucifixion. It’s all so symbolic and I wonder whether I will die during surgery at that romantic moment, being somewhat affected by the death of my friend, Joel Kirshner, who died for no apparent cause, perhaps asthma, just 2 weeks earlier. I decide that since I am Jewish, crucifixion should not apply (or rather, since Jesus was Jewish it does) so I further decide that I am making myself CRAZY but I am really rather calm other than that melodramatic moment.

I joke with the Fellow who is shaving my hairy left leg for surgery. The anasthesiologist says that “this is going to pinch and sting for a moment” and I totally agree with him that it will. After asking whether the fellow should shave my other leg so I have a matching pair I have absolutely no recollection of the next moment, nor whether I will see Joel while I am out because I am.... at a lost until I wake up in Part 2!