Taking Foot Out of My Mouth...

I have been anxiously waiting for a doctor's appointment, scheduled for tomorrow. As I've written before, I've been diagnosed with cluster tumors pressing on my pituitary gland. The tumors have caused havoc within my body, and I am becoming desperate for relief.

I have completed all of the necessary tests including the CAT scan and the MRI scans. I know, from speaking with my doctor and from my own research, that the surgery to remove the tumors is relatively "simple." I've also learned, through experience, that referring to a surgery as "simple" is an adjective for the surgeon, not for the patient.

Thankfully the tumors are not in my brain. They are outside the brain, but their proximity is still too close for my comfort. With the exception of several surgeries to fix the occasional broken nose, the majority of my surgical experiences have involved my lower half.

I've had over twenty-five surgeries on my leg and residual limb. I've had surgical procedures for the cervical cancer, as well as for uterine growths. I have never had a surgery near my brain, and the prospect has me terrified.

The appointment with my surgeon was scheduled over a month ago. I took the first available opening; much to my chagrin it was 6 long weeks away. Time has passed, and my anxiety about the cluster tumors has grown. I am ready to take action.

I have lost a lot of sleep fearing this doctor's appointment. I have researched the surgery, the recovery and the risks. I know that the procedure is necessary, and that in terms of procedures. is relatively safe. Regardless of these facts, my anxiety is high. I don't want to delay any longer.

I received a phone call this morning from the surgeon's office. I assumed that it was the standard confirmation call reminding me of the appointment time and location. To my surprise, I was told that my much anticipated and feared appointment was going to be rescheduled.

Immediately my ire began to rise. I've waited over 6 weeks for this appointment. I've lost countless hours of sleep due to my own fear, and I have worked to psyche myself up for the meeting. There was no way I was going to let them bump me.

I informed the lady, politely yet firmly, that I had waited for 6 weeks, and that I was not willing to give up my scheduled time. I told her that I would be at the office at 9:30, and that I expected the surgeon to see me at the agreed upon time. To be honest, I was proud of my new found assertiveness. I was not going to be pushed around by the medical profession any longer!

After a long pause, I was informed that the surgeon died two days earlier.

Let me tell you, there is no graceful way out of this type of conversation. I offered my condolences for the loss of her friend and employer. She offered, in a justifiably curt tone, to provide a referral to another qualified surgeon.

So, after weeks of waiting, I find myself waiting even longer. My "master plan" of having the surgery before the holidays is beginning to evaporate. My attempt at displaying an assertive demeanor with the medical community produced my own humiliating faux pas. I think I'll go back to bed and escape for awhile, watching Little Bear with Robby.