Yesterday we went to Shaare Zedek Hospital (where Stella will have the operation) for our pre-op tests and meetings. Throughout the morning, Stella was examined by the surgeon, anesthesiologist, surgical ward head nurse, and the hospital accountant (so we could have our bank account checked.) That’s a joke, although we did need to drop off a post-dated check equal to about 6,000 falafel in pita sandwiches.
Now let me explain something. Israel has a national health insurance system that is good. It’s not perfect ( and I don’t believe a national health insurance system CAN be perfect,) but I believe it is very, very good. It has paid for truckloads of drugs for us, scans, and examinations up the wazoo (but not of the wazoo because the cancer thankfully never spread there.) And even the surgery would have been paid for if we would be o.k. with a resident doing the operation (under supervision.)
That’s the catch. I am sure the surgical residents are very good. But with my wife’s life literally in someone’s hands, I don’t want “very good.” I want “the best.” After all, I’m the type of guy who is picky over what mechanic I let touch my bike. Shouldn’t I be at least as selective on who is going to be working on my wife?
I think so.