We spent the morning at the cottage and then went home, because Ian is flying out to California tomorrow for a conference. When we got home, there was a message on the machine saying that my oncology appointment scheduled for Tuesday had to be moved due to chemo patients and was now scheduled for August 29. That's two weeks after the appointment was originally scheduled.
Well, I freaked. I was very upset. Of course I called them. I didn't try to hide the fact that I was upset (ok, almost in tears - tears of frustration, but tears nonetheless). I guess the doctor I saw on Wednesday hadn't put the results in my file, and so the people who book the appointments didn't know that things were now much more serious than they were before. The person I talked to confirmed my statements with the doctor I saw this week, and that that doctor had
talked to the doctor I'm supposed to see, and that I should see this doctor sooner rather than later. So they told me they'd get back to me, and that they'd do something. The people I talked to were all very nice and calming and everything.
The appointment is now scheduled for this coming Wednesday. That's much better.
I understand that they're busy, and I understand that they're short-staffed because of a doctor shortage and because it's summer. I'm having trouble understanding how these situations can keep happening. If I wasn't the demanding squeaky wheel that I am, what kind of care would I receive? It actually matters how long things take now, and they don't seem to have the infrastructure in place to correctly triage and prioritize their patients. The fact that everyone is very nice does not excuse or make up for the fact that they don't have their collective acts together. Sigh.