Michele had outpatient gallbladder removal surgery today.

Late this morning I called Penrose Hospital Outpatient Surgery a couple of times to see if Michele was out of recovery yet. On the second time a nurse asked suspiciously, “Is this a family member?”

I’ve seen enough TV to know that the correct answer to this question is always yes, no matter how true it is. “Yes,” I answered without hesitation.

“Okay!” the nurse replied in a much friendlier tone. “She just came out of recovery and is having a little snack. Are you her daughter?”

Who else would I be? “Yes.”

“Well, your dad gave me a phone number to call about 30 minutes before she’s ready to go home.” It was Duncan’s cell, so I gave her the home line number so she could call me, since I was assigned to pick her up.

THREE HOURS LATER she called back. Michele had taken a painkiller as soon as she woke up that put her back out again for a nice nap. “Gina” told me to come on down and pick up my mom. “If you call us on your cell phone five minutes before you get to the hospital, you won’t have to wait for us to bring her down.”

Traffic was horrendous, being the Friday of a three-day-weekend and raining, and Coloradans having no clue how to drive in the rain. I called from the Interstate offramp and asked for Gina. “Joanna!” she said, “I just sent your mom down with one of our nurses. Thank you for picking her up and for taking such good care of her!”

Sure enough, Michele was waiting in a wheelchair when I drove up. She got into the car by herself without any trouble at all. “Hi, Mom,” I said as we closed the doors.

She rolled her eyes. “They told me my daughter was coming to pick me up, and I thought, ‘Okay, whatever.’”

Having watched many patients be put under for laproscopies but none wake up, I was amazed at how fine Michele was. She chatted all the way home. I was going to help her out of the car and inside, but she marched in without me after telling me where to park the car.