It's not in my Nature to be a Squeaky Wheel.

I had another post written for tonight.

It, however, while full of tales of excitement and adventure, will have to be postponed. There’s something more pressing to discuss this evening: needing to be the squeaky wheel that gets the grease. Or, in less metaphorical terms, how to navigate what is known as the medical system maze.

If you have been kind enough to be following this blog, you will know that a) I have a lymphocele. A big one. You will also be aware that b) I am waiting for a surgery date to have said lymphocele sliced and diced, in hopes of removing the pressure on my transplant kidney and ureter. And finally, c) if the lump o’ lump can be successfully “removed”, then I can have this silly nephrostomy tube also taken out (as the Jesus-loving charismatics would exclaim: PTL!)

When it comes to maneuvering through the medical system, I have learned that indeed, sometimes loud self-advocating is a must. Case in point: as I met with the Dr. Slice and Dice Lymphocele Surgeon nearly two weeks ago and have yet to hear about a possible surgery date, I figured I would call (and this says a lot, as one of my more introverted traits is that I quite despise speaking on the phone. If I ever do call you and we have a phone conversation, consider yourself loved).

I called the surgeon’ office. The receptionist answered. She pulled my file. I could hear papers shuffling in the background. She got back on the phone.

Receptionist M: Oh yes. I’m just waiting for the doctor to specify what surgery you are having and then sign off on the sheets. Then I will start looking into a surgery date for you.

Me: (Inside thought: WTF? You haven’t yet even started to find a OR date for this?) Pleasant outside voice: Oh?

Receptionist M: (Again, shuffling of papers in background). Oh! It looks here that he did sign off on the surgery (slight giggle).

Me: (Inside thought again: WTF? He’s signed off on the surgery and you still haven’t looked for a OR room?) Calm outside voice: Oh?

Receptionist M: Okay, so I will start looking for a date for you.

Me: (Inside thought: you damn well better, lady!*) Outside voice: Oh, okay. That would be great. I’ll call you next week to see where things are at.

Receptionist M: Oh no, I’ll give you a call when I’ve found an available spot.

*Slight awkward silence on both ends of the phone* 

Me: (Inside voice: Sure. You do that. I’m still going to call you next week to make sure someone is on top of this). Outside voice: Great! I look forward to hearing from you.

Sigh.

 

 

Squeak, squeak.

 

*This is coming off as rude. I do not mean to be insulting to this receptionist. In her defence, and to appease my Canadian inbred need to be considerate, I will admit that she is, as someone working in the medical field, most likely over-worked and busy. That said, I want this surgery. And I don't want to have to call to remind her to book a OR room for me. Canadian or not, I think that's just silly.