Friday, November 16, 2012
waiting becomes an art form
The plan was for the doctor to call me BY Thursday with the results of the pathology tests. BY Thursday, not sometime after Thursday. I started carrying my phone everywhere I went at 7 am yesterday because you know, the minute you take a bath, the phone will ring. I carried that damn phone, in my hand, everywhere. I took a nap with the phone on my pillow and I ate my lunch with the phone right next to my plate.
At 2 pm, I called and talked to a nurse and asked her to remind my doctor's nurse and the PA that I am waiting for a call. Nothing.
And you know how your mind goes right to the worst case scenario? You start thinking the cancer has spread everywhere, you have two weeks to live, and they're going to amputate both legs in the meantime.
Dramatic over-reaction? Maybe. Whiny and self-involved? No doubt.
I have great respect and affection for my surgeon. He is on vacation in California so I know I am not first on his list of priorities as he is most likely walking the beach and visiting wineries but I also know there is a special kind of hell for people who make a guy wait for medical news.
I have an appointment at 11 to have my alien embryo nursery removed so I will demand answers then. Harrumph.
Ah, hell. Finally, at 6 am, I realized that this monumental news (to me) is already written down somewhere. The waiting is over, really. It just hasn't gotten to my ears yet. I plan to relax. This is not good for my juju to be so upset. If they call to schedule my leg amputation, then I will worry.