I was wondering how interesting a blog about waiting could be ... and then remembered there's a whole, very famous, play about waiting. So while this blog will certainly not get rave reviews, maybe meditating on the act of waiting holds some allure.
Interesting or not, today was about waiting, after I got my stiches out from the hole in my arm cut during the first surgery. It looks shockingly big and ugly, but in another few months, I may miss that it was only a modest shark bite.
Today's waiting played out in the background like a quiet stereo, or the beautiful Gerbera daisy bouquet Vicky brought, as I sat at my desk and got some work done. After rushing all the medical records to MD Anderson, including dozens of pages of fax and two separate overnight Fed Ex packages, they set my first appointment (the consultation where they will do some additional imaging and tests, but also lay out what they see as the treatment path) ... for September 10th, three weeks away, 6 weeks after the "whoops" surgery, and, ironically, the day they would do the next surgery in the Denver hospital.
As my friend Michael said, I'm not dying, and if you're a big cancer facility, that may mean my situation isn't urgent enough to warrant prompt attention. I remember as a doctor's daughter never questioning that I would always be seen right away if something was amiss; I'm no longer a member of that privileged class.
There's only a knife's edge between being a squeaky wheel and annoying the very person who can help. So, Eve made another batch of calls to see if she could convince them to move my appointment up. Not sure what the plan B is, or if there is one. Michael reminded me of an old colleague who's now in line to be the next president of the American Cancer Society -- maybe he could help. Meanwhile, I can only hope that good things come (tomorrow already!) to those who wait.
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