As far as I can tell, the removal of my lipoma went exceedingly well. I traveled to the hospital in Manhattan early Wednesday morning by subway and arrived in the Ambulatory Care Unit at 8:30 a.m.

By 9 a.m., I was in a hospital gown, paper bathrobe, cap, and cute booties sitting in a Barker lounger being questioned by a friendly Caribbean nurse.
"Where’s your Health Care Proxy?" she asked.
"Oh, was I supposed to bring that in? " I asked.
"Yes, but don’t worry about it," she said.

After conversing with the anesthesiologist, who I found to be warm and friendly (it must be  the nature of the specialty: those in the business of preventing pain tend to be nice), I was interviewed by a physicians assistant and more than one nurse.

The doctor showed up just minutes before I was to be wheeled into the operating room. I’d only met her once at her office about two months ago.

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"So what are we doing to you," she asked abruptly.
"You’re removing a lipoma on my sternum." I said helpfully.
"Show me," she said. I pulled my gown down to reveal my ping pong ball size lump.
"Oh yeah," she remembered. "Did you talk to the anesthesiologist? What did he say," she asked.
"He said it was basically a local but that I’d be woozy but not asleep," I said.
"I want you to be out," the surgeon said.
"I don’t mind being woozy but not out," I said.

"But I do. It’s easier for me if you’re out," she said.

OKAY. Needless to say, the surgeon’s somewhat cold demeanor was the only bump of the morning.

The physician assistant and nurse wheeled me into the operating room. I guess I wasn’t expecting the procedure to be such a big deal. I felt like I’d entered a set of the television show, "E.R." It was icy cold in the enormous white tiled room with the bright lights. A nurse covered me in a heated blanket.

"Isn’t that delicious?" the surgeon said suddenly warming up now that we were in the O.R. It did feel incredibly nice. The next thing I knew, the anesthesiologist was putting an IV in me and I was getting very W O O Z Y. More than woozy, I fell asleep. OUT just the way the surgeon wanted.

I woke up in sunny recovery room discussing the possibility of a transit strike with a nurse. Relieved that it was over (and I didn’t remember a thing), I rested for a few minutes until my  surgeon arrived.

"We removed your fatty tumor. Everything went well," she said.
"Thank you so much," I said. "I’m really glad to be rid of that thing."

There was much activity around me. Nurses kept coming by to see how I was doing. One helped me sit up. A nurse offered the guy next to me various juices, coffee, saltines and graham crackers.

"I’ll have all of that," I said feeling a little giddy from relief and hungry since I hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before.

Soon, a nurse arrived with two graham crackers and a cup of coffee. Later my clothing arrived in a big plastic bag. I was able to dress myself, and she eventually wheeled me into lobby, where I waited for various members of my family to show up to take me home.

I’ve got a waterproof bandage on my sternum where my ping pong ball used to be. I still feel like there’s a lump there – phantom limb and all that. I look forward to removing the bandage next week and seeing what the scar, if any, looks like.