Surgery - Covid Style

Rita is having surgery on Monday to repair the tendons in her ankle.  Apparently - when your ankle starts hurting, you should NOT wait a year to see the doctor.  Lesson learned. 

Surgery in the age of Covid is a little sublime.  You spend 15 weeks refusing to go indoors anywhere other than your own home and then you’re suddenly being wheeled through a 12-story repository of concentrated illness [Sorry Rita – don’t read this until after your surgery!]

But fortunately, there are a whole new coterie of precautions for Covid starting with a “Covid screening”.  I’ll be honest…I expected a little more from the “screening” than a three-part questionnaire:

1. Have you traveled recently?  [Wow THIS is our biggest risk? The health care industry is throwing some serious shade at their friends in the tourism sector.] 
2. Have you had any flu-like symptoms?  [yes – and flu-like symptoms during a pandemic seems like the very best time to call a doctor….for surgery.  I called to ask for a Covid test and instead ended up in out-patient surgery.]
3. Have you tested positive for CoronaVirus.  [Ummm….maybe this is the first question you should ask?  I feel like we’re burying the lede here.]

Honestly, the “screening” consists of questions that are so obvious that if you get all the way to the hospital and then “fail” the screening questions, I have to conclude you either lost your phone on March 9^th and you’ve spent 15 weeks wondering why there’s no traffic out and about or you work on Trump’s coronavirus task force. I’ll be honest, I was hoping for something a little more…insightful.  Like…”Were you sort of sick at any time in the winter of 2019/2020 – even before Coronavirus was discovered – that you caught from someone who travels or maybe doesn’t travel but lives in a city full of people who do travel and you felt…well…sick?  Then you probably already had coronavirus.  Let’s apply this new magic test to be sure.”  

After breezing through the – “welp-you-didn’t-sneeze-on-me, you-must-not-have-Covid” screening, there were still additional precautions to apply.  

First, “you should come to the facility wearing a mask.”  Everyone? Or just the liberals?

And finally, the big finale….

“we encourage all visitors to remain in their cars or return home as visitors are prohibited at this time.”

Wait – am I a visitor????  And you want me to “return home” and just hang out and watch TV while Rita is under the knife?  This feels like a great big trap, I’ll tell you that.  Unless, of course, I want to “remain in my car”.  For 4 hours until she’s out of recovery?  Do you think we drive a camper?  And does it look like I love my wife any less if I opt for the “TV-at-home” option instead of the “I’m-right-outside-in-a-boiling-vehicle” option?  Rita just wants to me to pick the option where I’m the least likely to be on a conference call when they tell me to come get her.  Maybe they could also email me just in case. 

KneeRover KneeRover, send Rita right over

Rita has decided to go ahead and get her much needed ankle surgery done.  Part of me thinks she’s doing it just for my blog material.  But I think she decided she can’t travel anywhere due to Covid and you can’t be outside in Nashville in July so why not just double down on the suckiness and at least be able to walk properly when this is all over. 

She is likely to be unable to put weight on her ankle for the next 4-6 weeks, so we decided we better get her some help in getting around the house. We ultimately decided on the “KneeRover”, but not before considering some alternate rides:

The KneeRover definitely feels safer. 

KneeRovers appear to be fairly essential as the new ride arrived within a day of being ordered.  Good thing we got it early, however, as some assembly required.  This is where Rita and I got to practice how we are going to handle adversity collaboration during Rita’s recovery.  I don’t want to say more practice is required, but methinks it’s a good thing KneeRover doesn’t include divorce papers along with their assembly instructions.  I do question the wisdom of assembling your own medical device when you’ve already demonstrated an inability to avoid injury in the first place. Besides, Amazon can ship me allergy meds in a box the size of a toaster oven – you would think KneeRover could send a SLIGHTLY larger box with an already assembled scooter in it.

In a sign of things to come over the next few weeks, Rita asked me to put it together.  As if she’s never met me.  But I guess it’s been a decade since I last tried anything handy and Rita’s curious if I’m still as useless as ever.  Check!  But tell me where to point my credit card, by golly, and I am aces. 

After about 45 minutes of screwing and unscrewing the same f’in bolt which wouldn’t go flush, I told Rita it would be easier if I just carried her everywhere.  Since that didn’t inspire a ton of confidence, Rita decided she better take over.  Apparently, there are video instructions that demonstrate what it looks like when the axle is attached upside down.  Looks familiar.

Seriously KneeRover, would it have killed you to put an f’in arrow on the axle?  I mean….for chrissakes…a little help here.  Afterall….a plastic bag includes a warning that it is not a child’s toy.  Clearly, you can never be too explicit for the U.S. population.  I am volunteering to help you with some much needed lowest-common-denominator instruction targeting.  

Once assembled, the KneeRover turned out to be a little….disappointing.  

First, a bottle of champagne won’t even fit in the ice bucket on the front.  Second, the turning radius on this thing is handy if you are recuperating in a high school gym.  And finally, despite specifically ordering the “off road” version of said KneeRover, we discovered it’s pretty useless in our house-o-stairs where 40% of the terrain, and EVERY POSSIBLE path to the bathroom, includes a set of steps.  Which means Rita and I are practicing a new move we expect to use over the coming weeks….the nifty little KneeRover-to-crutches double lutz transfer.  But that is a post for another day. 

Tax Planning

Generally, I am extremely secure in my geekliness.  Like….whatever you think you got in terms of dorkdom…bring it….because I am a gluten-allergic accountant who has almost finished my journey through the biographies of the US presidents.  So bring it.  

But every once in a while, i realize that I still have a lot of work to do before I am as uncool as I think I am.  You see….today….I joined a call on corporate tax planning with a tax lawyer and a tax accountant.  

And now I know how you people feel when i talk about Excel.

First of all, are these people really able to slip in and out of social settings undetected???  

 “Phil” and “Sergei” were from different firms who have been brought in to assist with some tax restructuring for the company I work for.  While they had never met before the call, I would have sworn they were fraternity brothers if i thought any fraternity in the country would have had either one of them.  They were probably brought together by the shared bond of an exorbitantly high hourly billing rate. 

Phil:  Well of course, my client wants to preserve their section 542 status above all else

Sergei:  Oh yeah, of course.  We would never risk your 542 deductions.  We just think we can insert a blocker co, push down some debt and access the interest deductions without disturbing your 1202 status. [is it just me or does that sound like the heist plan to the worst Ocean’s 11 movie ever??]

To which I then HAD to ask….in my very best CFO voice….”so what is a section 542 qualification?”  I think I squeaked when I said it. 

Ever been on a call when you could HEAR an eye roll?  

Now, I have been mansplained p-lenty of times before.  But this is probably the first time I’ve ever been obscurasplained - where someone somehow patronized me about something no one even cares about.    

Phil:  it just means the parent company won’t have to pay taxes on the gains on the sale.  Like ever.  That’s right, they may never have to pay taxes again.  That’s section 542.  So…kind of a big deal.  

To which all I can say is….go out and find you someone who feels about you the way Phil here feels about section 542.  Yeesh.

Now that they had effectively shut me the fuck up, they went full secret decoder ring. 

Sergei:  We can probably do some DRE work here, maybe roll-up the c-corps, convert to LLCs, maintain their NOLs and even capitalize on the TCJA changes.

Phil: True, true.  Just be careful you don’t run into a Kimbrall Diamond.

Now hold on a second.  “run into a Kimbrall Diamond”????  You guys are just making shit up now.  Like you might inadvertently turn the corner and BAM – slap heads with a Kimbrall Diamond.  And you’re just Kimbrall-Diamond screwed.  If your mother wasn’t such a dolt, Kimbrall Diamond is the one she would have warned you about.  

But I didn’t ask.  

I’m sorry, but I bet I just spent $3,000 in professional fees on that call and for all I know, I just got punk’d.  But I guess as long as I avoid the Kimbrall Diamond, it was worth it.