When the Patient With PTSD Tries to Schedule a Colonoscopy

This morning I decided it was time to woman up and schedule the colonoscopy I am supposed to have, in light of my family history, my cancer history, and my chronic GI issues.  I call the medical procedures unit and they look me up, locate the order, and repeat the order back to me: “Colonoscopy with Dr. Gastro, attended by anesthesiologist.” That’s right.  The scheduler tells me she does procedures one day a week and there might be a long wait unless she has a cancellation (false hope, that one).

Then he says her next available is early May.

Early. May.

It’s February.

I immediately spun out upon hearing the news and the following went through my mind:

*I get to spend three months wondering if I have cancer or not.

*I get to spend three months wondering if the anesthesia is going to work on me this time.

*I can’t leave my job for three months.

*I can’t make any plans after that date in case I have cancer and need surgery/chemotherapy.

So, after insisting this was much too long and there being no solution forthcoming, I said that if I had to wait this long, I wouldn’t be having a colonoscopy and that I will take my chances. I then ended the call while the scheduler was mid-sentence.

I was prepared to wait a month, six weeks. That’s standard. I don’t expect the sea to part and make way for me (though it would be nice), but May is unreasonable. It also SCREAMS, “You are not a priority and we don’t care,” which led to any sense of trust I forced myself to feel in order to get through the door in the first place (let alone try to schedule this) to completely disappear. Just like I pretend to trust them, they are supposed to pretend to care and that’s clearly just too high a demand for us all.

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s