The following is a Sentinel story about the future. It was written in November of 2003 about the then future in 2010 and 2020. It appears as it did in 2003.
A Sentinel Story from a parallel dimension file.
Back in the year 2010 I began to feel poorly. I had a pain under a rib on my right side that wouldn’t go away, so I went to see my HMO plan provider. He determined it was my gall bladder and looked on his computer to see when the next surgical procedure could be scheduled.
“I can get you in after the first of the year, about six months, unless you would consent to the drive through surgical unit.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Well,” he said, “it works like this. The downtown center has a central tower for supplies and offices, with a rotating carousel containing four operating theaters that continually rotate around the tower. The entire rotation takes two hours. You are only onboard for one half hour for your surgery and one half hour for initial recovery. Then you’re removed and placed in your car for four hours and then released. You don’t take up a hospital bed or extensive nursing. It’s really best for minor or frequently performed surgeries. You get to fully recover at home.”
“Why don’t I stay for the full two hour rotation?” I asked.”
“The third half hour is for sanitation of the operating theater and the fourth half hour is used for replenishing the theater for the next surgery,” He answered.
“Sounds ok to me,” I replied. “I’m tired of the pain.”
“Good,” he answered, “I can get you in next week for that one.”
24 hours before the operation, the nurse called me with a list of do’s and don’ts. I began a fast 12 hours before the commencement of surgery.
I was up at four-thirty the next morning and my wife and I were driving to the drive through complex. When I arrived, I checked in with the nurse. She gave me a ticket and told me to pull my car over to the wind tunnel and give the technician a ticket. The technician motioned me into the tunnel and told me to open the doors, and then walk into a booth nearby. As soon as I was in the booth, the wind machine fired up and a 50-mile per hour wind blew all of the dust and dirt right out of my car. The tech then motioned me over to give me another ticket and told me to pull up to the sanitizer unit. The tech there had me get out of the car while he sealed up the car and pumped in a poison gas that killed all traces of bacteria and germs, then after a few moments, the car was evacuated and fresh air was pumped back in with a Lysol type cleaner to keep the re-growth of germs down for the next eight hours. He then instructed me to pull the car over to a monitoring column on the east side of the tower, and then return to the east entrance.
I entered on the east side and was put on a gurney and rolled into the prep center where a lot of shaving and scrubbing went on for about 20 minutes. At five before six AM, I was rolled into a canister, just like at the drive through window of a bank, but large enough to accommodate the gurney and me, I was then pushed into the tube on the west side of the tower. I was first in queue and ready for my surgery. I could see the carousel rotating and exactly at six AM the door slid back on the carousel and I was pulled into the theater.
The anesthetist covered my mouth with a mask and I was out. The video recorded the surgical team incisions, removal of my gall bladder and the closing for insurance purposes. At six thirty, the team left at the south exit, back into the tower to prepare for their next surgical procedure, while I continued on my ride for the next half hour as the carousel slowly rotated back to the east exit. Then I was rolled out and pushed to my car by a nurse and an aide who together placed me back in my car and hooked up the monitoring cables and plugged me into a portable monitor system that sent my vitals and continuous video back into the control room of the tower.
Four hours later the nurse’s aide walked out with my wife to disconnect the portable monitor and allow my wife to drive me home. The rest of the week I had to use the cables to plug into my home personal computer and send back twice-daily vitals to the control tower. I had been given an e-mail address to use if I had any problems.
The next week I was back at work and no one even realized I had surgery performed. I heard there was an even faster drive through surgical complex due to be completed in 2020, but I didn’t know how those doctors could work much faster than they did with me. I felt better and the drive through surgery was a full six months sooner than waiting for a hospital room and traditional procedure.
2020 came and passed, but the newer and faster drive through surgery complex was never built. In 2017, the cost of health insurance reached a level where the working class could no longer afford coverage. In one year, the insurance industry imploded and collapsed without premiums coming in to support the pyramid. The government still couldn’t pass universal healthcare, so only the very wealthy could afford surgery out of pocket. Most surgeons returned to family practice, trying to eek out a living. With no malpractice insurance, many discovered they took home more money than they did before.
I’m a septuagenarian now and like other septuagenarians, our doctors prescribe enough medication that we feel no pain as we continue on the road to our destiny. Life is good. And this ends my story of the drive through surgery center.
Pax Vobiscum,
Bill
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