First let me say I have only enormous appreciation and gratitude for all of those folks who work at hospitals. Multi-tasking every day - layer upon layer of sorting information, demand upon demand of folks dealing with issues ranging from language through pain to ignorance and fear.
It took me an hour of waiting to realise that I needed to have a little more control over what was happening. My appointment to see a nurse and doctor was before one for a pelvic and abdominal ultrasound that demanded fasting, drinking copious amounts of water and not peeing. Not surprisingly the doctor/nurse information appointment was late. This made for a very full bladder along with unnecessary stress while I made a fuss to be ultrasounded before my bladder burst. In retrospect, I should have been ultrasounded during that hour wait, but what did I know. Only when I woke up to how hospitals run did I realise the importance of taking a number to get in line to take another number to get to see the right person.
As always the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and as long as I am polite and deferential things can go my way. To panic or succumb to helplessness and fear is most dangerous.
So we did the physical tests. I have the blood pressure of a 20 year old girl. I am in good shape. I can touch my toes. I eat the right things to prevent cancer. But still the bird has its claws in my neck. That was a dream I had. It swooped from the sky and dug its energy in there. The good news is that I called for help. And I continue to call on all levels.
The nurse told me all what to expect apres surgery - what to do - what to wear - what not to do. Somewhat overwhelming, but I began to allow myself to remember the last time, and will process it all in due course.
Two ultrasounds, an ECG and blood tests later and we were allowed to leave after a gruelling, brutal 5 hours of bodily invasion, blood letting and total loss of dignity. I came home and slept like the proverbial babe.
At least that part is over. Su-An