May 18 - 8:50PM: Paper coffee-cup and oat muffin in hand, I stare into a hazy sunset like a sailor eager for land, my energy level ebbing and flowing not unlike the tides that guided mariners of old. This would be hour number 12 of my unexpected odyssey into our healthcare system.

May 18 - 7:05AM: Phone rings. It is my lovely mother-in-law. She is complaining of abdominal pains and, as a retired head nurse of obstetrics at the Vancouver general hospital, makes a self diagnosis of appendicitis. I ask her if it would be appropriate to deliver her immediately to the emergency room at the local full service hospital. She said to me, much in the same way she said to her husband while almost giving birth to her daughter, my wife, on the Lion's Gate bridge, that there was no hurry and that she would make an appointment to see her g.p. when he opens his office at 8:30AM!

May 18 - 10:30AM: We pull up to an unusually sedate emergency room admissions area. Right behind us is a lovely young girl who has just spent the night drinking and has, in the last hour, swallowed a bottle of pills. She sits calmly in a wheelchair and had been just brought in by some distraught friends. Thankfully, my mom-in-law's g.p. has faxed ahead all the critical details so the e.r. staff have been expecting us.

May 18 - 11:30AM: I will say at this point that the staff and nurses in the e.r. admitting area are fabulous, sensitive and professional. It also catches my eye that there is a familiar brand name coffee and associated snack appearing at alarming regularity behind the glass at the triage desk. More on that later. The auto doors in admitting fly open and a middle-aged woman and her grand-daughter enter. The 10 year old girl has an arm dangling at an odd and uncomfortable looking angle. She looks brave, strong, stoic and remarkably like a niece that I have, just slightly older. A few moments pass and some ambulance paramedics appear along with the triage nurse (a very helpful and friendly male, who also seems to be tied to the umbilical of the now familiar brand name coffee). They are bracing the young lady's obviously fractured arm. She is being brave, very brave and the pain she is experiencing is palpable. The obvious questions appear: "What were you doing, young lady?" She replies gently: "I was doing cart wheels and all of a sudden my arm bent in the wrong direction!" Obviously!

May 18 - 12:30PM:   My mother-in-law sits beside my wife and me in the waiting room. From time to time she is doubled over in pain but is handling this quite well. With an abdominal issue presenting, it is definitely a no-no to eat, drink or swallow anything. Mother-in-law (we will call her B from now on) is asking for something to ease the pain. Being a nurse and all, B suggests to the e.r. l.p.n that a couple of extra-strength tylenol might be good. E.R. l.p.n. runs this past the resident e.r. surgeon and gets the okay based on the fact that B is a nurse and nurses know best.

May 18 - 1:30PM: B is moments away from getting a bed in the e.r. Good thing. Stuff is starting to happen and quickly. I am sure this is typical of most emergency rooms because everyone seems to be prioritized according to need. The lumps, bumps, aches and pains people are moving through the system somewhat more slowly. The drug o.d.'s are moving swiftly. A bee sting anaphylaxis patient is getting treated at lightning speed. I feel like I am sitting perfectly still in a movie that is being run past me at three times the normal speed. To get up to speed, I realize some brand name coffee and sugar laced confection is not only necessary but an absolute must. Enter Tim Horton's.

May 18 - 1:40PM: Yes folks, Canadian legend and doughnut purveyor, Tim Horton's is located somewhere in the hospital facility. Compared to the jack rabbit pace of everything around me, I have become quite sloth-like. Not surprising. Breakfast was a bowl of cereal and I have not had coffee, coffee break or lunch.

May 18 - 1:50PM: I feed the parking meter for the 3rd time today and I have in my hand a tall black coffee and a maple dip doughnut. As I walk towards the e.r. someone yells out to me: "I do NOT believe this! Coffee-man is drinking Tim's coffee! Ack! What are you going to do for me to keep me quiet? And what the heck are you doing in the e.r.?"

May 18 - 4:30PM: In the past couple of hours, my mother-in-law has been poked, prodded, scanned and sedated by every nurse, orderly, resident and specialist in a 300 foot radius. Between mouthfuls of more Tim Horton's coffee, I am now munching on sandwiches my wife so thoughtfully packed for the day. Wow! Some people think of everything.

May 18 - 7:00PM: Three 72" flat-screen plasma screens display every minute detail of every single procedure that is going on from e.r admitting through triage, the emergency ward through to the operating theaters and the recovery wards. My mother-in-law has a laparoscopic appendectomy scheduled for 9:30PM. She already has a room set aside but the medical team does not see the point in moving 'mom' from e.r. up to recovery and then back to the surgical floor.

May 18 - 8:48PM: It is one hour before my mom-in-law goes into surgery and my head feels like it is going to explode. I draw deeply from my paper cup of factory java like an old man pulls on a cigarette after a very long break from tobacco. The sweetness and texture of an oat bran muffin makes for a perfect taste compliment to the seriously strong black coffee. I feel the healing power of the brew surging. Normally a coffee sipper, I drink the java in a fashion that I could only describe as lustful.

May 18 - 11:20PM: The very capable surgeon who performed the procedure strolls down an empty corridor that would not have been out of place in a Stephen King novel. In fact, my wife and I feel like the day has been a high-speed blur of events normally reserved for a whole week of the unexpected. Yes, I have been having lots of these kind of days lately. The news is great. The operation was text book. My mom-in-law's vitals were stable throughout the event and she is resting nicely in post-op recovery.