I called my doctor's office first thing this morning. The receptionist promised me, rather aloofly, I felt, that I'd hear from her before 3:00. "Tell her I'll be sitting by the phone," I said. "She'll call you back between patients," was the reply. "Thanks," said I, waiting until after I'd hung up to add, "Bitch."
My doctor called me back within 10 minutes. "Oh, Gal, I'm so sorry!" she said, and at first I thought she was telling me my mammogram revealed something severe and dire.
It wasn't that, at all. "You're fine, you're just fine," was her next sentence. "When I saw you were my first call this morning, I checked your file and I think I know what happened."
She explained that her nurse yesterday was not her regular nurse. Elena didn't check to see that I gave my consent for voice mail messages to be left at my home number. My doctor apologized profusely for scaring me over nothing.
I was so relieved, I wasn't even angry. And really, when you think about it, Elena the Nurse was really just trying to respect my privacy. It was an honest and well-intentioned mistake. One that scared the living shit out of me and cost me a night's sleep, but a mistake nevertheless.
I am so grateful, I forgive everyone everything ... except Yoko Ono. I'm still pissed at Yoko.
These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
Hooray!!!
ReplyDelete