When Citygirl was six, I bought a swingset for the back yard. It was made of wood, included a slide and a set of monkey bars. Some assembly required. Most of the time I had no regrets about being a single mom, and Citygirl's dad had proven to me a couple of times over that he had no idea which end of screwdriver to use, but I did occasionally miss having a second pair of hands for a project. And this one was a doozy.
After a couple of hours of assembly, willingly if not ably assisted by Citygirl, I called my best friend and asked if Citygirl could come over for a couple of hours. "Sure, why?" "Because I've reached the swearing and screaming phase of the project and I think she should miss this part."
So today I placed a call to CHOP to try to figure out if Babygirl is scheduled for a biopsy yet or not.
They told me in February that this biopsy is necessary. They told me they needed to see if the antibodies she is making are hurting the kidney. And what the hey, I have to believe them! Short of returning to residency and becoming a nephrologist myself, I have no option but to believe what they tell me.
Babygirl hasn't been seen by a doctor since February 18th. The anticipated biopsy date of March 14th came and went. The next date they are aiming for is April 1st, which is one week from today, and as of this morning we had no news about whether or not they are proceeding.
I asked the receptionist who answered the phone if the procedure has been scheduled yet. He told me that they were waiting to hear from the sedation team.
"The sedation team rejected her as a sedation candidate in NOVEMBER. They told us more than a month ago that they weren't changing their minds about that for this procedure. Last I heard what we were waiting for was a room in the OR and general anaesthesia!" I'm sure I said more. I'm sure I said it loudly. I'm sure it included, "I know you aren't the person responsible, but you are the person on the phone. I need answers."
I got transferred to the nurse practitioner, who, among other things, hinted that there was some degree of disagreement among the transplant doctors about the necessity for the biopsy. She wasn't sure what the hold up was on planning. And so on and so on. While we were having this discussion, my student arrived to tell me about our last morning patient, and the alarm went off on my phone to remind me to call my Mom and tell her to take her pills. And right about there, I hit the swearing and screaming phase of the project. "My dad used to address juvenile behavior like this by telling us, 'Shit or get off the pot!' So pick one or the other but here's what I want you to do: I want a call within the next 24 hours giving me the date and time of Babygirl's next appointment. And I want to know what that appointment is FOR - recheck or biopsy. Cancel the f***ing thing or make it happen, but stop making me crazy. My life has PLENTY of stress without this shit." I offered to us my inappropriate anger on the OR if she thought they needed some inspiration to move things along.
I then turned to my flabbergasted student, listened to her case history and dealt with the patient. I ate lunch in bites between phone calls and paperwork, and totally forgot to call my Mom about her pills.
The NP called me back toward the end of the day. We are to come in Monday. She doesn't know for sure if we will get a biopsy or a recheck visit, but the plan is to proceed with biopsy if the OR is available.
So it seems it's down to the the Pantie Fairy. If I pack a weeks' worth, will we get to come home on Monday without a procedure?