I spend a lot of time in waiting rooms, as you know, and sometimes texting is my distraction of choice. My poor Sister in Liver Disorders is often the textee because no one understands waiting better than her. She’s already heard this story. In fact, there would be no story without her.
Have you been on tenterhooks wondering what happened with Dr. Eye Surgeon last week? I ended up driving, despite my fatigue. Not one of my better decisions. As always, don’t do what I do.
The receptionist greeted me with the same medical history form that I had already forwarded to the office as requested. When I reminded her, she said: “Oh, no one input it.” Rather than responding, “Chop chop!” I returned her clipboard and started my waiting.
The technician started on all the same eye tests Dr. Eye’s assistant had completed a few months prior. The problem is not with my eye; it’s a lump on my eyelid, kids. Eventually, the reason for my visit dawned on her, so she kiboshed the rest of her usual routine and sent me out. But first she remarked, upon seeing my discoloured legs, which my shorts exposed: “Boy, I don’t know anyone who bruises worse than me.” You’d be very proud of me for looking at her quizzically rather than sharing my inside voice. She caught her own inappropriateness without my help and muttered, “I guess I shouldn’t have said that.” Trust me, I’m not competing for bruising excellence.
I was moved to wait for the doctor, who flew in and out. It was all a blur. Since he hadn’t reviewed my history, he had no idea I had leukemia. He believes my lump is simply a response to infection but because I have leukemia I get the full meal deal–removal and biopsy–which will be quick but will require a needle to my eyelid. “You won’t like that very much,” he added–why do doctors say such things?–which prompted a first-date discussion about my need for sedation. Yes, Dr. E.S. would have left in 120 seconds had I not needed another 60 to address sedation.
Somehow in that three minutes, Dr. E.S. shared that he used to drive while he was so tired that he’d fall asleep at the stoplight, only to be woken by honking cars once the light turned green. And this man will be wielding a scalpel near my eye? Oh my!
To complete my suffering, the booking assistant beckoned me after yet another wait. She opened by stating I should be grateful my surgery was scheduled within 6 weeks as the doctor had requested, and that she’d had to move two other patients to do so. I would have bowed to kiss her feet in gratitude but I was just too darn tired by then.
During my play by play to my dear Liver Sister, I texted, “I’ll have to have it out.” Since I’d omitted one essential detail, she responded, “YOUR EYE?” [Yes, the caps are hers.] Ah, the dangers of texting. I clarified that miscommunication quickly so I could drive home before I too fell asleep at the wheel. If I had, I sure wouldn’t have bragged about it.