“So, tomorrow my appointment is at 9:20, right?” I asked Janice, the wound care nurse as she worked on wrapping my feet the day before.
“I think so, let me check.” she said as she disappeared from the room for a moment. “9:40!” her raised voice from around the corner proclaimed.
“You should’ve told me 9:20,” I joked, referring to my tendency to be late. “Then I might arrive on time for once!” We both laughed. It relieves me that she’s never really been upset over my tardiness. I’ve often struggled to be on time for appointments, classes, meetings.
It used to really piss Jessie off. She once got so upset with me that she got out of my tan sedan, slamming the door behind her as she marched back home after I responded in a snarky & indignant tone to her grievances, as if she should be grateful I’d driven from Vancouver to Richmond just for her. It pissed her Mum off too.
It’s also pissed some of my teachers off. One even developed stricter rules in her course outlines about attendance & tardiness over the years that I sometimes felt she did so just because of me.
And it certainly pisses my Mother off. At least with her I’m on time taking her to appointments. If it’s just to go shopping though, well, that’s another story.
Today, I had to be on time because the wound care doctor was examining my feet. It wasn’t so hopeful. He didn’t seem so optimistic but wanted to stay the course. Amputation came up again & he asked if I’d heard from the specialist yet. “No, I haven’t.”
He gives me a prescription for new offloading footwear, and mentions moving me to a prescription antibiotic. This scares me. As I’m tight on money. In fact, it’s been weeks now since I’ve gotten my depression, diabetes, high blood pressure, & stroke meds. But I don’t tell him this. Just that I wasn’t sure I could afford another drug. “Don’t you have fair pharmacare?” one of the nurses asks.
“No.” I say, adding sheepishly, “…it’s been awhile since I’ve filed my taxes.” They say they can keep me on IV another week, as if that would be enough time to get the taxes done. I sigh.
(59/366).