I just had a call from my surgeon's secretary.
We hadn't heard anything about my surgical slot for 22nd, so Dave chased them this morning.
The secretary told me Mr Genius (surgeon) wanted to see me on Wednesday for a pre-op appointment!!!!!!!!!!
I've been sent home, 130 miles away, to live on a diet of opiates, fortisips and a cocktail of other drugs for three long weeks. I didn't want to come home, I tried all I could, but here I am. I need an injection every 2 hours or so and I have just spent the last 36 hours vomiting every 20 minutes.**
Like J-Lo at the Ivy, I asked her "Does he know who I am?" I explained that he's operated on me 6 TIMES before and that I saw him just a few days ago as an in-patient. Surely he doesn't need me to sit in a car for 6 hours vomiting in order to sit in front of him for a maximum of 5 minutes, repeating everything he already knows???? Do they actually want to kill me off? (Actually, by now, that might be exactly what they want, lol
Despite my astonishment, I managed to joke with her a little and she's agreed to check that he really does need to see me. Of course, this all adds to my reputation as being "difficult."
If she gets back to me and says, yes, he does insist on seeing you, I will have no choice but to smile sweetly and half kill myself getting to the appointment. Dave will have to take another day off work (£75) and it will cost us £50 or so in petrol. (I told her all this.) Nothing but nothing matters more than having that op on the 22nd.
Oh, the myriad ways they can make this harder than it already is!!
**You'll probably be pleased to know that that's passed today by the way, so panic over!