Tales from the Snout-The Telephone Game

Hi there, I've been feeling okay. The sinus sugery part is fine. In fact, I'm not even needing Tylenol. Unfortunately, since I can't blow my nose, it's all draining into my ears and down into my chest. Sunday morning I wake up and it feels like Jack the cat was sitting on my chest. "Trouble breathing" was one of the symptoms of a call to my surgeon. I am suspecting bronchitis is the culprit. 10:02 a.m.: I dial the number on my post-op sheet. There's a 30-minute call back to the message center. They pass on the call to my surgeon. The young lady who took my call was very hurried, and said she would pass on the call and I would be called back. She wrote down my number (so I thought). It sounded like she transferred me to him, because I hear a click-click and an annoying beep-beep busy signal. Confused, I call back and she said we don't directly transfer you to the surgeon. He'll call me back. Between 10:10 a.m. and 2:00p.m. I wait. And I start a new stitching project-a pillowcase. (We went out Saturday night to dinner and to a few stores--I may have over-extended myself.) And I wait. And stitch. And wait. And stitch. And wait. As I am becoming more frustrated, I accidentally stitch the ends of the pillowcase together. Grrr. I pull out the stitches (have you heard of the stitch n bitch books?) I am not swearing, this is an actual book series. But anyway, I wanted to join the group. I was stitching and I was, well, you know... 2:00p.m.I finally call back. And I am not a happy camper. And I am not breathing any better. A kindly elderly gentleman answered the telephone. I admit my tone was a little, well, surly (for me anyway) and he was really nice. This is where we found out the first person wrote my number down wrong. He tells me if I don't get a call-back, to please call back. 2:45p.m. No call. With the proverbial steam coming out of my ears, I call. The poor lady on the message center (not the earlier one-this is the third one I have today)catches some of my wrath. She is very kind and apologetic. She said she will call him to call the message center to make sure the phones are working. 3:00p.m.. My surgeon calls, very kind and apologetic. His cell phone was messed up and the telephone number he received was incorrect. (In his defense, he did try to return my call. He was misinformed.) He was going to call in prednisone to reduce swelling in my nose and bronchial tubes. We gave him the correct number on the prescription tube on my vial. He said he was going to call and Steve could pick up the script in a few minutes. Great. Problem solved. 3:15p.m. Steve leaves for the pharmacy (2nd time today--1st was to buy a new thermometer.) He comes home a half-hour later empty-handed. No record of script on file at that location or other ones yet. She informed Steve she would call back before 6p.m. if the script request arrives. We thought we just jumped the gun. 5:00p.m. Fuming and stitching and still coughing, I call the pharmacist back. No word on the script. They close at 6p.m. but another location is open 24 hours. (It's a good thing I wasn't dying!) I was done. After disconnecting, I tossed the telephone on the couch and handed this mess over to Steve. I wasn't feeling well and just about to lose my temper at this point. I don't think it was wise at this point for me to be talking to anyone. Except I call Mom a few times to stitch and .....(We have call waiting.) 5:30p.m. Steve calls the message center. They pass on the message. 6:00p.m. My surgeon calls back. He is very apologetic and confused, as he called in the prescription hours ago. He calls the 24 hour pharmacy. 6:30p.m. Steve leaves for the pharmacy. His third trip out. What a saint. 7:30pm. Steve arrives with the script. Hallelujah. I choke down six prednisone for the first day's dose. Now maybe I can breathe. This may have been a frustrating Sunday, but it makes for an interesting blog. Lolo xoxo