He never called back

My gynecologist. His nurse did call me this morning -- both at home and at work -- to tell me he wants to see me right away. Really? Well, I want to see him, too! That's why I have left three messages since over the last week and a half. Yes, I know he was on vacation. Yes, I know today was his first day back. But I wanted to make sure I'm a priority.

So I have an appointment to see him tomorrow at 9:30. Hurray! But for what? A CA-125 blood test? A consultation and discussion of next steps? A referral for an MRI to keep that ultrasound company? How much time should I take off work on Wednesday? Should I fast? I asked the nurse to have him call me back.

She said she doubted he'd be able to, but she'd give him the message. He never called me back. I hope she didn't give him the message.

I have been waiting to talk to him since July 29, when my GP explained the ultrasound results, introduced my stapler-sized cyst to me and referred me to my gynecologist. That's 11 days that this thing has been hanging over my head. Eleven days!

Over this time I have talked myself into -- and out of -- a cancer diagnosis. Today the sweat pants I ordered arrived, as a hysterectomy is likely. I saw Sir Paul twice and returned to work in that time. It's felt like a lifetime.

And now I have to wait one more fucking night.

I like my gynecologist. I like how conservative he is in his treatment and how much time he spends with me, one-on-one, when I'm in his office. But I don't like the way his office runs when he's out of town, and I don't like how his nurses behave like Cerberus as they "protect" him from patients like me.

I want this to be over. I have never been one for sitting patiently by the phone, waiting for a man to call!