My Diary. Part 2. Unexpected side of Israeli medicine. Oldness...
Hello everyone!
I continue to publish my diary and the story of my illness. My thoughts, feelings and actions. I really hope that these lines will help someone.
Part 2
Unexpected side of Israeli medicine
Almost two weeks after the last "red"... I was told that the operation should take place within a month, but the date was promised to be reported later. For about a week the highly organized side of my "I" suffered from the unknown in silence. Then it was indignanted, and I wrote an email to my curator in the hospital. Then another one... Without waiting for an answer, I called, then again and again. Is she died there, or what? I called the general number of the Department of Medical Tourism and began to feel the hero of the novel "Solaris": "With whom to connect? I do not know who you are talking about. Who are you, Victoria?"
The fruit of my frustrated imagination, a chemotherapy side effect or a guest from another world? Maybe you did not exist at all? Maybe I also came up with an Israeli professor?
The solution turned out to be unexpected: I was tormented by doubts about my own adequacy, I called the hospital and asked to connect with the head of the department of medical tourism. The receptionist got agitated, talked to someone, switched over to someone, and everything turned out - my curvy curator went to the army (!), forgetting to hand over the case and redirect the email. About me and my operation was simply forgotten. So much for the Israeli miracle of paid medicine.
The result of the story:
- I'm not crazy,
- I was given a new curator. She quickly contacted the professor, but time was missed, and the date of the operation shifted to the seventh week after the last chemotherapy. What a pity that the delay again...
Death is like a counselor in the pioneer camp: life is dense and full in the ward at night. Fantasies, memories, dreams... Pranks, jokes, terrible stories... Laughter, tears, inconsistent whisper. And then he comes, clicks the switch, and everything becomes simple and clear...
Oldness
The day of operation. The time was set strange - 19.00. Normal people already at home in pajamas, and not walking by hospitals.
I was worried: suddenly the surgeon will be tired or, God forbid, hungry? My curator just laughed. They laugh a lot here generally. I was supposed to be at 15.00 in the hospital, to have time to install another label. This time not a clip, but something I do not understand, from which only the thread sticks out from my breast. The implantation was made under the supervision of ultrasound and it did not happen the first time. I can not say that I was very worried about this - I was prepared for the operation, so I was hungry, withdrawn and a little unfeeling - but the doctor seems to be upset. Having finished the procedure, she apologetically said: "I apologize for so long. Tissues are young, it's not easy to pierce." What a wonderful apology! "Young" ... Paradise music for forty-year-old female ears.
I walked along the corridor and smiled sadly: when did this start? When I began to beg, ravenously picking up and carefully folding every careless "girl" and flattering "but look younger." And today's "young tissues" ... I feel oldness, I prepare for it, as the tiller feels the drought in the hot breath of the wind and prepares for the coming famine, picking up the spikelets. On the last birthday, oncology graciously delivered me from sadness with the specter of a near death, but what happens next when the ghost dissipates? Will I still remain sensitive to the changes in my reflection in the mirror? Will it be as jealous to compare myself and my peers? And will I not get to the last humiliation, telling an understandingly smiling acquaintance about how "they thought that I am my daughter's sister, or how they asked for a passport when I tried to buy alcohol?"
I apologize for the possible mistakes that arose in the translation. There are idioms that are difficult to translate into another language.
You can read all parts of the diary here:
- https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-farewell-to-my-hair
- https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-friends-mama-it-started
- https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-israel-hospital
- https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-bells-relatives-about-luck
- https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-presence-of-spirit-what-i-do-not-need-lighthouses-and-
- https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-2-god-forbid-if-you-will-meet-it-again-you-have-not-seen-me-and-
- https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-2-wonders-of-telephone-medicine
- https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-2-traffic-cops-and-me-sometimes-i-feel-very-ashamed