AND my throat still hurts.

Yesterday I had my pre-op appointment with the doctor who will be performing my parathyroid surgery. He was, as I expected, very nice, and the resident who was with him was sporting a HUGE diamond on her left hand, so she and I had a brief chat about being engaged. The doctor's assistant was very friendly and saved me cab fare, although she was not the most efficient person I'd ever met (more on that later).

So yes, everyone was nice. I didn't have to wait long to see the doctor. Everything went according to the best-case scenario plan: the doctor confirmed that I can have the minimally invasive surgery (although there's always a chance that more than just the one gland is affected, in which case he would have to make a bigger incision mid-surgery to find the other sources of the problem). It's a 23-hour observation period, which means my insurance will be billed only for an outpatient procedure even though I will most likely spend the night at the hospital. It's under general anesthesia, which means I don't have to sit there awake while someone roots around inside my neck.

So, yes, good. But even though I vowed that this year would be the year that I stopped being scared of doctors? (And that was a nice piece of clairvoyance, wasn't it? Since I had no idea, at the time, that I'd be seeing so much of various doctors this year?) And I have been largely successful at achieving that goal. I'm not scared of doctors because my health has become an open book so I'm no longer scared of what I'll find out. And that is great.

But still. Despite all that? And despite the fact that this visit to the surgeon had the best possible outcome, given what I already knew, which was that I did need surgery? Hi, my name is Jess and I get upset when things that I KNEW were inevitable come true.

The meeting with the doctor himself was fine, and he was knowledgeable and friendly and answered all my questions, and then he dropped me off with his assistant to schedule my surgery. Incidentally, he and I talked it over and I decided to go ahead with the surgery now, before the wedding, because by the time the wedding gets here the scar will have faded considerably, and I'd rather just have this done with and not have to think about it.

Anyway. Off topic again. But my point is, when I went in to schedule the surgery, the assistant asked me whether I'd prefer July or August, and I was surprised, because the doctor had said June and August is not very far from the wedding at all. So I said that I'd like to have it earlier, as soon as possible, and then she told me okay, June 10. And I was pleased with that, and reconciled myself to it, and then she said oh no, actually, July 1.

Except that I told that story all wrong, because when you read it? Ha ha, it almost sounds like it was a BRIEF conversation. Like, you know, two minutes. But actually? It was forty-five. Because when I went into her office, she was on a personal call, and she smiled at me and motioned for me to sit down, and then continued her personal call for FIFTEEN MINUTES while I sat there awkwardly. Then she FINALLY hung up and I thought we'd get on with it, but then she started organizing some files on her desk. Then her phone rang and she spent five minutes chatting on it. Then she started asking me about dates, but before we could get very far, a resident stopped in and they had another five-minute conversation. Then the phone rang again. And so on and so forth, until finally, FORTY-FIVE nerve-shredding minutes later, I was informed that July 1 was the earliest possible date.

I swear, I almost cried! Over a three-week difference! By the time the 45 minutes had gone by (and I am NOT exaggerating on that time estimate; if anything, I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt that it was under an hour), I was not feeling equipped to cope with the fact that this surgery wasn't going to go exactly according to my internal plan. Plus, we were going to go out of town for the July 4th long weekend, and if I'm recovering from surgery, that won't be possible, but I don't want to put the surgery off anymore, because July 1 is only four months out from the wedding, and that already makes me a tad uncomfortable. And plus the doctor said June, he said JUNE I SWEAR HE SAID JUNE so even though July 1 is only a day after June, DAMMIT HE SAID JUNE AND THAT'S WHAT I WAS EXPECTING.

Anyway, my look of horror and tragedy must have made the assistant feel bad, because she promised to try to move a couple of things around to free up the doctor's calendar for the June 10 date that she originally promised me. She even told me there was a "good chance" that it would work out that way. And that's the hope that I'm clinging to because JULY IS SO FAR AWAY, and also SO CLOSE TO THE WEDDING.

And I couldn't even be that mad at her for taking so long and stressing me out so much, because she was so friendly, and when she noticed on my form the name of my company, she told me that her daughter used to work there, and then she told me that there was a free shuttle from the hospital almost directly to my office, thus saving me the cab fare home, and she actually walked me all the way out to the shuttle stop so that I wouldn't get lost. Because she was very sweet, you see. Just vastly inefficient, and not so good at the prioritizing of the client in her office over the friend on the phone.

Anyway, despite everyone's niceness, and the relative success of the appointment, all things considered, I was GRUMPY for hours afterward. Like, seriously edgy and pissed. And the mood didn't lift until I finished the proposal I was working on and dropped the final copy at the director's desk. After that, I finally started to feel better. And now I'm still a tad annoyed about the whole thing, but overall feeling more balanced and less infuriated.

So, roll on July 1. Or June 10. Fingers crossed.