The surgery scheduler for the doc who is going to be performing Tess's spinal fusion surgery told me that she needed to reschedule Tess's surgery date.
The date that had been put in the book last April and was now less than four weeks away.
The date that we have been trying to mentally and emotionally prepare ourselves for since we finally faced our fears and agreed that this MAJOR surgery was Tess's best, and only option, despite the many scary things that could happen to her as a result of having it.
The date that we planned nursing schedules around, work schedules around, and had booked hotel rooms around.
And what really threw me over the edge was the reason for the reschedule; the doctor has decided to go to a conference.
I. can't. even.
Well, after ranting and raving on facebook about it and getting some much needed support from my FB peeps (thank you all very much by the way), I called Patient Relations at BCH and left a detailed message about my unhappiness. Then, when the hubs came in thru the door, I started to rant all over again with no doubt he would be in full agreement.
Ask me how that worked out for me.
He was, as usual, the voice of calm and reason. God, I hate that sometimes. He was all zen about it and was listing off the positives like it would give the bone infusion meds more time to work and that you don't want a doc operating on your kid when their mind is elsewhere and you've pissed them off by calling in the big guns to try to get your point made that you are unhappy with them, etc., etc.
Grrr....
So I did what all good wives do. I started in on him and why was he defending this jerk of a doctor who was putting a conference ahead of patients' lives and why could he not just back me up on this and see my reasoning and how could he possibly think this was okay to do to people and on and on I went as only I can when I'm good and revved up.
Then I really showed him by leaving him all alone on the deck to watch the sunset by himself. In peace and quiet.
Take that, mister man!
So I went to bed and said a little prayer for some peace and guidance.
Thankfully, God must have taken pity on me because I woke up with a totally different attitude about the whole thing. I decided to trust that there is a reason this was happening and, don't tell Charlie, but agreed with him that we probably shouldn't tick off the man who was going to slice into our child by filing a formal complaint. Besides, the bottom line was, nothing I did was going to actually help the situation, yet it could make it tense and awkward. Not something I needed to add to an already overstressed plate.
And when I checked FB this morning, one of the first things I saw was this:
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and this:
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I took them as good signs that my new attitude about it all was a good thing.
So when Patient Relations called me back first thing this morning, I told them to just forget I called. They assured me that I had every reason to feel frustrated and offered to hook us up with a different surgeon and/or go speak with the surgeon on our behalf to explain our frustrations but I said no thanks. We would just plan on the new surgery date and deal with it.
I then told the hubs when he came home for lunch that I was not going to complain to BCH because it just wasn't worth it for Tess or us.
His response: "So you actually really do agree with all of my reasons to just leave it alone and think I am right?!?!"
I very quietly and grudgingly muttered, "Yes.", then caught a glimpse of what looked like a very smug and satisfied expression.
"Don't get used to it, pal.", is what I wanted to say. Instead I went in the other room to leave him in peace to eat his lunch.
Take that, mister man! ;)
