I was scheduled to begin my pelvic floor therapy this week, an appointment which I have been anticipated with dread that stems from an impending sense of humiliation and pain. I was encouraged to have somebody drive me to the first appointment, so Scott secured the day off work. Everything was ready and while I wasn't looking forward to the appointment, I was anxious to get it over.
As the appointment day approached, I kept reminding myself that anticipated pain and humiliation was probably stronger in my mind than in reality. Just as I was psyched up and emotionally ready to conquer the therapy, the rug was pulled out from under me. Hours before the appointment, the therapy office called and cancelled.
On one hand I felt like I had received a stay of execution. At the same time, I was frustrated, disappointed and angry. I had invested so mental energy preparing for the appointment and I felt emotionally strong and ready. Scott had taken a day off work to support me, which could not be undone. While I knew that it wasn't my fault, I felt guilty that he had burned a precious personal day for no reason.
My interactions with the medical community surround this organ prolapse has been exasperating at best. Between cancelled appointments, unanswered messages and examinations void of any compassion, I am experiencing considerable concerns about the quality of my medical care.