Hot Flash Rage

Wooooooo Hooooo! The genetic test results came back negative for both breast cancer genes. Praise God! That’s good news not only for me, but also for Mini Me, Garlic & Bagel. Aside from the obvious good news, I’m just thankful that I don’t have that hanging over my head anymore. One of the most stressful parts of this whole deal is all the waiting involved.*********************************

We met with Dr Schmidt yesterday and I got a date for my surgery: October 9th. They tried to give me October 2nd, but I had them push it out a week so I could do the Race for the Cure. Sometimes I think Dr Schmidt doesn’t quite know what to think of me. Keep in mind that the vast majority of his patients are at least old enough to be my mom, if not my grandma. Most of them aren’t asking questions like, “Hey, can I go to the Mellencamp concert a couple weeks after surgery?” Although he told me no firmly, but nicely, the expression on his face told me that what he really wanted to say was, “Are you smokin’ crack?! No, you can’t take your freshly stapled together self into a crowd of 7000+ people! Sheesh!”

*********************

Remember how I said that I was on the verge of an episode of hot flash rage? Well, it almost happened in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. Because Dr Schmidt is The Man when it comes to breast cancer, he’s got about 652,000 patients, at least half of which can be found in the waiting room on a given Monday or Thursday. This means that you’re pretty much guaranteed a substantial wait—anyone who’s been there more than once ought to know this is the case. I don’t mind because A) he’s the best and B) I know that part of the reason the wait is long is that new patients who have not yet been diagnosed are worked into the schedule ASAP. It wasn’t so long ago that I was one of those, and I’m thankful I didn’t have to wait weeks to get in to see him.

So, when we walked into the waiting room and it was almost completely full, we knew we were going to be there for a while. The seats we chose were back to back with a couple of elderly ladies. For the next 40 minutes we heard a running commentary about how long they were having to wait. Oh, there were a few little asides thrown in there, but for the most part it was, “Well! Those people came in after we did…I can’t believe how long we’ve been sitting here…I think they’re messed up back there…blah, blah, gripe, gripe, blah, blah.” Both went up to gripe at the girl behind the desk and asked when they’d be called. It was all I could do not to turn around and say, “You know, I WISH that the length of my wait here, and the fact that I might miss seeing Alex Trebek tonight were the only things I had to worry about!” Grrr!

The waiting room was so much more peaceful once they did finally get called in.

 

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