Eleven days gone since I was told I have Hodgkin's. No appointments are made. A week ago, someone from City Block Hospital said they'd see what was taking so long. Silence.
"You can't sit on this, it goes fast," Dr. H. said to me during Cancer Announcement (2018 edition).
I decide to see what I can do without a long-distance plan on my phone. I don't own a cellphone. I must be an online sleuth when I call doctors—the apparent numbers for lines are never toll-free.
The hospital I want my cancer treatment through is the one that referred me to City Block Hospital. The doctors there need my updated records. I played 40 minutes of phone-tag this morning. Turns out, I can't request my own records from CBH to send them elsewhere. I can't see the doctor who saw me last year without them.
I might be looking at a suspension in motion until after the new year. I'm trying not to panic over the sluggishness. I'm trying not to panic over what my life will be like once everything is go, go, go.
In this silence, breathe... I tell myself, ...and live.
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