You know what the BEST part about surgery is? When you get knocked the fuck out and you can get a little peace and quiet! Unfortunately, I am still just over two months away from that blissful moment and am dealing with all of the primitive screwheads that are supposed to get me from point A to point B but wind up giving me worse directions than Mapquest in 1999.
I tried calling the main office for the GYN since they appeared to have their shit together and asked if they had the Doctor's October schedule.
I try to explain the situation - that I see the Doc at the Poor People Medical Building but nobody over there knows any scheduling and I need to get my calendar in order.
So she interrupts, "What insurance do you have?"
ISN'T IT SAD AND DEPRESSING WHEN THIS IS ALWAYS THE FIRST THING THEY ASK YOU HERE IN THE USA? NO MATTER WHAT THE CONTEXT - I COULD BE BLEEDING FROM MY NIPPLES AND THEY'D ASK ME, "WHAT INSURANCE DO YOU HAVE?"
With a frustrated sigh, "Medi-Medi."
It was like I hit the fire alarm button.
"UH UH YOU NEED TO CALL THE POOR PEOPLE BUILDING TO GET HIS SCHEDULE! I CAN'T TALK TO YOU, THE POOR MIGHT RUB OFF ON ME!"
I tried to explain again but she kept interrupting me so I hung up on her before I wound up calling her cunt.
So I am back to square one, at the mercy of the mystical schedule that apparently NOBODY CREATES. Except that somebody knew - somebody called me well over a month ago and told me the doctor would be there October 10, 11th and 13th (dates I am actually trying to avoid scheduling, which is why I want the rest of the month)
Where is this woman, this magical, scheduling fairy-godmother? I do believe in fairies, I do, I do! Now, if I close my eyes, click my heels three times, will I be able to make appointments and schedule the rest of my freaking life?