|St. Blaise, Patron Saint of Throat Illnesses|
"Well, we have the results of your biopsy...and the doctor recommends that you come in so he can go over all the results with you," the voice on the answering machine intoned. There was a similar message on my voice mail.
I called the number and got the "Appointment Line" and did as I was told; I made an appointment. The appointment was over a week away.
After commisserating with several friends at work over how unbearably long from now that was, I decided that the only prudent thing to do was to call the "Medical Records Department" to have a copy of the result promptly faxed to me at work. I called the department and left what I thought was a very casual sounding request on their voice mail and waited. Medical Records Lady called back within the hour; she was wise to me.
"I got your voice mail," she chided, "but I am not allowed to send you any results now. You will have to wait until you come in. You will get a copy of the report when you come in for your appointment."
"Yes, but that is over a week away," I whined, hating myself for whining, and feeling for all the world like my seven year old.
"I know," she said briskly, "but you'll be able to go over everything with the doctor then, okay?"
"Um, no," I said quickly, sensing her desire to wrap up the call and get off the phone, "It would be different to wait that long if I knew it was okay, you know? I mean, if I just had something to hang my hat on, if I knew it was nothing...serious..that would be different..." I said trailing off, hoping she might offer some reassurance. When she did not, I continued, "...but its over a week away!"
"I know," she said, sounding falsely bright to me.
I said nothing, hoping to wait her out. There was a long pause and another sigh on her end of the line. Finally she spoke, "When do we have you coming in?"
"Next Thursday," I replied, trying to pour all the desperation that was building within me into those two words.
"Hm...how about Monday?" she asked.
"Monday would be MUCH better," I sighed, relief spilling over me.
"Oh, wait....mmmmm....no Monday won't work. Tuesday?" she chirped.
"Tuesday would be fine," I said quickly, before she changed her mind.
"Okay, then...Tuesday...but we will be working you in, so you need to be on time or you'll have to wait," she admonished.
"Of course," I said gratefully. Then I blurted out, "Isn't there anything you can tell me? Anything?"
"No, I don't understand all...that," she said, "You wouldn't either. There are a lot of big words. It would just scare you. Better to wait until he can go over it with you." She hung up.
I stared at the phone. Stunned. A lot of big words? Really? What. am I stupid? I mean, really...I can google things. I can! Don't think that I haven't already! Hmmph. Scare me!? Right, like that statement in and of itself wasn't scary...like not knowing isn't scary.
So here i am...up at 2:06 a.m., eating a toasted English muffin with butter, and drinking a diet Canada Dry ginger ale.
My husband assured me that the doctor just wanted to collect another office visit co-pay. If this is the case, I can assure you that he will be dealing with one PISSED OFF red-head come next Tuesday, the likes of which he has never seen.
Until then, I will wait...and pretend I am not worried. I will drink my Canada Dry and eat my English muffin. I will try not to google too much, because googling without direction can take your mind to places that there is no sense going unless you just have to, and I will wait.