Deflated

I walked into my GP's office at 1:45 today, already on the defense. This would be my first time meeting the doctor, and with my lousy insurance, I was pretty sure I was going to have to fight for my referral to Boston Children's Hospital. I tried to follow a friend's advice to just relax, have faith, and trust. Sure, no problem...just as soon as I had that referral in my fist.

The doctor, a fellow Smith grad, whipped through the physical exam, asked about the referral I was requesting, and not a single eyelash batted in my direction as she wrote furiously on her notes.

"No problem, just give us a call when you have the appointment and we'll put the referral through".

Huh. Not a bad start. I was thrilled! I drove straight home to make my appointment. Of course I didn't expect smooth sailing all the way, but I was pretty high when I called BCH to schedule my appointment with one of their surgeons.

"We can get you in on June 18", the receptionist chirped over the phone.

June? JUNE? How could this woman dare to be so stinking cheery about the news that I would have to sit tight for three months? For just the bloody consultation? Gah. I felt deflated. Three months! Three months before I even get to sit with a surgeon and discuss my options, find out if I'm a candidate, discover if insurance will pay or partially pay, or even make an appointment for surgery.

Now what? I mean, I've waited my entire adult life, so really, what's three months? Three months is a hell of a long time, that's what. When you have been waiting your entire adult life and you decide to finally go for something, three months might as well be three years. I want to be scheduling surgery already. I want to be in recovery yesterday. I want this to be over with, and the last thing I want is to have more time to think.