Yesterday was a very unsatisfying day. The surgeon breezed into my husband's room at 7am, long before there was any family member around to question him, and spoke only to my husband who was impaired by lack of sleep, medication and pain. Yeah, that made a lot of sense. Then said surgeon disappears off the face of the earth. The nuclear test was done and we were told we'd hear from our surgeon. After an hour of insisting that that wasn't good enough, the nurse finally told us there didn't appear to be evidence of bile duct leaking ... as carefully worded a report as ever I have heard. Calls to the doctor's service asking for a phone consult were useless. With the Jewish Holy Days starting on Monday, I am not happy with the run around. If we need to transfer Bill to a hospital in NYC, will we be able to process the paperwork, get an ambulance, secure insurance approval, etc. with skeleton staffs in place, doctors and specialists incommunicado? And in the meantime, Bill just lies there enduring the unexplained post-operative [by 8 days now] pain and starving on a liquid diet until the doctors get their act together and decide to put their heads together and come up with a diagnosis. The one good thing in this whole mess is that my sister-in-law is a nurse and capable of deciphering medical jargon so that we are not fobbed off with inadequate or less than completely truthful explanations.