Frustration

This has been the most frustrating day since the doctor in Argelès discovered I had lumps and needed a biopsy.

1. Plans were for a rainy day, work on the memoir I'm editing, stay indoors, enjoy looking at the rain and drinking lots of tea.

Reality. At 9:30 when I'm still in my PJs, the phone rang. The hospital wanted to know why I missed my 8:30 appointment.

The answer was simple. No one told me I had the appointment. It wasn't on any of my date sheets.

I was given a new rendez-vous at 11:30 but not what day. The call was extra frustrating because the person on the phone spoke fast and seemed to resent when I asked her to repeat something or slow down.

Mad rush trying to figure out what to do and how. The department that called didn't pick up the phone.

It did not help in searching for information my normally neat room became a disaster area. I don't do well when things aren't in their place.

Finally, I called my nurses team who were able to give me information.

2. I misplaced my pocketbook in the confusion. For one horrible moment I thought maybe it had been packed in the luggage of our two departing guests, but Rick found it before they had to unpack,
a small blessing.


The consultation was to explain what would be done on Monday when they insert the port-a-cath in my chest so they won't have to attack my veins and leave me feeling like a human pin cushion.

3. Unlike at La Maternité where everyone is helpful, the receptionist was rather nasty and I had to repeat calmly was I needed. She finally agreed to search for the doctor, who was not nasty and understood when I explained I couldn't keep an appointment that I didn't know existed.

4.  My new wig feels terrible. It itches. I finally put the one on that I had bought three years ago that I had planned to wear until my hair grew from the Oreal 66.6 to  its natural color whatever that might be. I gave up early on and the wig stayed in my closet although Rick has been playing games with it over the last few days. The old one feels fine.

We need to go back to Michel (wig maker) tomorrow when I have yet another trip to the hospital to take blood to see what can be done about the wig.

5. Since I had skipped breakfast in the rush and the cafeteria at HUG has a terrible selection of foods we decided to have a date, a nice lunch and instead of the usual restaurants we chose Port Gitane in Versoix to turn the day into something pleasant.

I used to eat there with my boss. Even in the rain the view of  the lake was beautiful. Pricey but my fish and Rick's chicken were good.

As we sat at the table, I realised that my temporary prosthesis had moved. I had my left breast looking good under my sweater, but my right had moved to the middle of my chest and up to my throat.

I excused myself to make the necessary adjustments.

Now that wasn't frustrating but more funny. Once  get my permanent prosthesis this won't happen.

I need to remind myself how lucky I am to be able to have this treatment to prevent any recurrence of the cancer, that no one is dropping a bomb on me, that I am not being herded into a camp as a refugee etc., etc., etc. I have a wonderful housemate and husband who rally around me.

And if I think about it a roaming boob is much better than banging my head against anything.

Calmness has replaced frustration.