The Dartmouth Coach bus brought us to Grand Central 10 minutes early; we had time to shuck some bags at the hotel and to grab some lunch before hoofing it to the office of Ron Alterman, the neurosurgeon. The meeting took all of about 20 minutes, mostly a chance for us to ask questions. It was mostly details for me, such as will I be awake when they drill the hole? (A: Yes, but it takes only 30 seconds, and I’ll have a sponge in my mouth to absorb the vibrations. As the Brits would say, Right!)
Insurance questions arose yesterday out of the blue, but Alterman’s assistant, Yvonne, took care of it — and I pity the fool that pissed her off! “That should never have gone to the patient! I’m going to call her on that!”
We’re staying at a Courtyard hotel in a neighborhood, Yorkville, that I’ve never explored before. It’s nice — more relaxed than midtown, lots of potential eateries over on Third Avenue. Tom arrived successfully with the minivan and the baggage, and because I’m getting into the red zone for eating and drinking certain things, it is now time to get a drink or two (and dinner).