I called today after 2:30, as I was instructed, to find out what time my surgery would be. They couldn't find me on the calendar. Checked several ways. Finally I was put in touch with the scheduling girl, and she said she had no nothing that said I was supposed to have surgery. I explained that this had been on the calendar since Sept. 6, and I had all the pre-op info, and the surgeon had said to me, "See you on Tuesday," so I knew I had it right. She said she was sorry, but had nothing on me, and since they could not get in touch with my surgeon (who I later learned had gone home sick earlier that afternoon), there wasn't anything she could do. This has never happened before, so she didn't know what to tell me. I hung up the phone having no idea what to feel, which of course caused me to cry - a strange cry, where I couldn't seem to get the emotion out (whatever it was), like it was getting stuck on something on its way out. A few minutes later, the plastic surgeon who had sown me up last week called. "How are you?" he asked, to which I answered, "I don't know." He said, "Yeah, we're confused, too. We don't know what happened. We put the order in, but somehow it didn't come through." So what happens next? They're going to see about getting me in on Thursday, which is Michael's birthday (happy birthday, dearest... on my birthday this year we got to have my first biopsy, so this would be right on par). Unfortunately, while tomorrow worked for all the important people to be there, Thursday is quite a bit trickier. We can make it work, but there might be some tag-teaming in the waiting room. But if they can't get me in Thursday, Dr. Skinner is out of town next week, so I'd have to wait two weeks to do this thing. Not really interested in that.
Have I mentioned this is getting old? Get the cancer out already!
So I honestly don't know what I feel right now. Discouraged, definitely, but more than that. You get your head around something, you know, and prepare yourself for it emotionally, let the people know who need to know, get done what needs to get done... and then it all changes. It sucks, plain and simple. I was diagnosed a month ago today. I started all this testing the second week in July. I have just enough emotional stamina to make it through this with grace, but not enough to manage all these twists and turns with a smile, that's for sure. So tonight has been a lot more tears than smiles. Michael soaked up many of them, as he held my hand and prayed aloud for God to provide me with the strength I need to handle this, and told me over and over what has been the theme of the season: "I gotcha. I gotcha. We're gonna get through this. If you don't have the emotional stamina, lean on me and all the people who love you."
So. You can put your urgent during-surgery prayers and positive thoughts on hold for a few days. I'll keep you posted.
(In other news, I had my first congregation-bringing-pastor-meals meal tonight, and it was delicious and totally made my night. Winter squash soup, YUM!)
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