And I might be yelling, typing in all caps.
We got the biopsy results a week ago. It was MLK Day. A WashU holiday. No, I could not make an appointment because the Scheduler had the holiday off. So they took my information, and called me back. On Tuesday, they told me I had an appointment with the surgeon on Thursday. And I stayed home from work and Tom rearranged his day to come with me, thinking this sounded like progress. The surgeon really couldn't tell us much of a plan without oncology's input. Surgery would offer their opinions and put a chart together for me and Oncology would review it and get back to me by Monday at the latest with an appointment. Plastic surgery managed to find me at work today, with a phone number I do not give out. I was impressed with their resourcefulness. I will meet with them tomorrow. To discuss future cup size? To come up with a more concrete plan from their perspective, the non-ticked part of my brain knows. And Oncology? They can confirm that they have my chart, and it will be sent to some as-yet-nameless person to be reviewed so they can call me to schedule an appointment in the next three to four days. And so it cold be yet another weekend spent waiting, waiting.
When I call you, choking on tears, fears and lumps in my throat, can you please DO BETTER THAN THIS? We take Excellent care of people. We are coached and counseled and prompted about our excellent care and how to provide it. This is the reception a new patient receives. I am so frustrated and disheartened with my own doctors.
Tomorrow, I will focus on my patients, providing Excellent care. And I will meet with Plastics. And I will chase my kid all over the county, and to a Mission trip meeting, because we have talked about and prayed about a trip to Guatemala in August. I'm not sure I am the one taking him (aunts? uncles?), but we will plan and move forward in faith that even if I can't go, someone will take him. Life goes on even in the midst of chaos.