Ring Ring Why Don't You Give Me A Call

 I have been prancing around the greater Vancouver area with celery stuck up my nose and my cell phone attached to my side. As usual, I have been waiting for some hospital or the other to call me with regards to scheduling my surgery. As a precautionary measure, I am avoiding fatty foods and this particular exercise has rendered me even more charming than usual. 

The day finally came when I met up with my surgeon. All that waiting for a ten minute consultation, if that. The good news was that he really knew his stuff (according to what I've learned from Google). The bad news was that he would not let me keep my gall bladder--and there went my plan to keep it in a jar in my living room.

My diligent spouse, P, and my nutty sister were very delighted by this rejection because neither of them wanted to sit around a room that had my body parts floating in pickle juice. I was rather pissed off and wished that I had prefaced it by saying it was for cultural reasons or something of that sort.

After taking half a day off for this momentous few minute meeting, I zipped off to my temp job right after, because really, after missing a week thanks to the ER visits a few weeks ago, I literally couldn't afford to miss a moment more.

I returned to find my coworker who was covering for me in a flap because my tentative surgery date coincided with the date that three of our colleagues, also temps, had to leave thanks to the new rules about our contracts. She acted like the world would end and that I would never return from my surgery.

I was trying valiantly to catch up with all the work I had missed that morning, all the while consoling her simultaneously.  I half imagined her standing on the table and breaking out into 'Don't Cry for Me Argentina' when it was her last day. Amazingly, I caught up with my work super fast and I wound up praising my efficiency for the rest of the day. Those folks will sure miss me when I'm gone.

Since that day, I have been prancing around with my cell phone by my side because the hospital was supposed to call me regarding some pre-admission tests that I have to do.  The one day I wore clothes that had no pockets to work, I had to strap my phone around my neck.  

My hair was even puffier than normal thanks to the weather and I looked like a St.Bernard. All that and the phone never rang. I called and tormented some very kind nurse several times and she kept apologizing that the hospital was rather back logged in terms of paperwork.

Eventually, they called me on Friday and I was told that i had to go for even more blood tests. After my stints in the ER, I had so much blood drawn from me that I wondered if they were catering for a vampire convention.

So off I went to the hospital on Saturday with my sleeves rolled up. I had never been to this particular facility before and when I strolled in, I had a flashback to heydays of the '80s.  Surely, this must be where they brought JR after he was shot.

Although immaculate and well maintained, I expected to bump into the cast of Dallas, Dynasty or Falcon Crest at every turn. Luckily, or not depending on how you look at it, I met no one with feathered, layered hair or shoulder pads. The nurses were very nice and I barely felt the prick when they drew my blood for the umpteenth time.

My nutty sister would love this place. I asked her to come across the border to help me out with our six year old, Lanes, on the day of the surgery.  I envisioned her sitting by my bedside, with her eyebrows so far up that they would be behind her head. 

I would turn to her after the surgery, and using that brief moment in time when she is so glad I'm alive to ask her for a chocolate fudge sundae.  Sadly, she has other plans. First of all, she refused to get me one saying that's how I wound up losing my gall bladder in the first place. She thinks I should be eating carrots and drinking wheat grass.

Secondly, she wasn't planning to hang around me at all. She had grand plans to prance around Lanes' school, pretending to be her mom. My nutty sister then wanted to take Lanes home during lunch break, feed her, and take her back to school. Who does that to a first grader?

So great, I'll be getting chopped up and P will have to leave the waiting room when my nutty sister gets sent to the principal's office for suspiciously loitering around the school halls all day.

Any old how, I sat Lanes down to explain my surgery and to try to allay any of her fears. All she heard was that my nutty sister was coming and she tuned out everything else. She is busy concocting fun plans with her aunt. Those two are peas in a pod. So much for sympathy and spoiling by my sibling.

Meanwhile, my aunt has taken to calling me up frequently and in an almost choked voice she asks 'how are you child?'. I get her highly upset by saying 'Still alive!' and laughing maniacally.  Terrible, I know, but I'm only having a gall bladder removed. It's not like they are throwing a nip and tuck in there for good measure.

With that, I must sign off. Lanes just walked in announcing she was going to start a project.  That never ends well for me or the carpet. Hopefully, I'll have a proper surgery date, or better yet, I'll weigh one organ less when next I blog. More musings from BC next week...