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I might be a Vulcan

August 26, 2010

Before I headed off to the new doc yesterday afternoon I looked him up on a Doctor rating site. And he didn’t have the most impressive score ever. My RE has a horrible score too, so I wasn’t that concerned, my experience with my RE has always been the polar opposite of what the other women were reporting.

Back to Dr. Yesterday – I just don’t get it. Everything he was rated low on, I had no problems with. He was on time, he answered all my questions, he had a great personality even though he claimed to be having a cranky day. He had a sense of humour and he was patient and answered all my questions, even the dumb ones.  He works at a different hospital than the one my RE is based out of, and he knows that the REs hospital is so overbooked they wouldn’t even put me on the list. We discussed the merits of his hospital closing down 7 of their 8 ORs for the summer to stretch their budget. We then tried to figure out the reasoning between keeping that one OR open 24hrs vs opening 2 ORs during normal hours (we failed). It would also appear we were a good match on the sarcasm scale.

I’m not sure if I’m just not wired like these other women, in that I don’t need the cooing and the hand-holding, I just need the facts, and for you not to be an asshole, or if there is all sorts of subtext I am missing and should be offended by. Am I missing an outrage opportunity? Maybe if I’d gone to him when I was pregnant with V, during my kumbaya earth-mama, crunchy, ‘I want Ina May Gaskin herself to deliver this child’ phase, things might have gone differently.

I am however reserving my rating until after the operation, just in case.

Here’s the deal. The OR(s) – they opened a second today – are running 24hrs a day. Things like cancer, hearts and exploding appendixes are looked after a) first and b) during regular business hours (if applicable). From 4pm on they look after ‘the list’. I’m on the list. Top of the list, 3rd page as it were. Luckily this hospital also has a policy that once you’re on the list (and I heard him call me in – 4:23pm) they have 7 days to ‘clear’ you. This policy also means that if I haven’t been seen come Wednesday, I trump an appendectomy and possibly even heart attack. Again, neither of us saw the logic in that. As well, if I was somehow able to fake agonizing pain he’d be able to get me in tomorrow…I’ll keep that one in my back pocket.

So sometime in the next 7 days I will get a call, telling me to put down the burger and get my self prepped. I’ll probably get a call just before surgery saying ‘oops, sorry, something came up’, but it can only go on until Wednesday. I see much fasting in my future. This should help lose those last 30 pounds.

I don’t mind the wait, I mind the not knowing. Forget not knowing because it makes it difficult to plan work activities, a social life and care for V, I mainly mind the not knowing as it means that I’ll have to keep my damn legs shaved in the super-fine, visting-the-doctor fashion for the next 7 days! No half hearted swipes allowed, the gardener is on full alert!

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