We wind our way up the parking ramp at Children’s every six months. After parking, we make the long trek on foot through the skywalk, through the clinics building and to the farthest end of the hospital.
Trepidation builds with each footstep. They may as well pipe in Berlioz’s “March to the Scaffold” from Symphonie fantastique to accompany our walk to the Orthopedic department.
When we arrive we start with X-rays which only take a few moments because we are now pros. We wait to be called back to a room where we see a nurse, a PA and the doctor separately in that order.
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