Saturday, February 7, 2009


As a rule, I am not one of those people who likes surprises. To clarify, I am not one of those people who likes surprises when I know somethings coming. If it happens out of the blue, there is no awareness that anythings up? That's fine and dandy and I will be full of glee (or weep & wail and get over it) accordingly. But tell me to "wait for it!" and watch me unravel: Accelerated heartbeat? Check. Rapid breathing? Check. Say 'hi' and watch me jump 10 feet in the air? Check. I. Like. Game plans. Even if the plan is to be spontaneous: totally kosher, as long as we're clear that we're being spontaneous.

Why am I rambling about surprises anyways? Well, I'm such a patient soul (harHar!). Ever since those molds were taken I've been doing the whole, "Does the surgeon call me to come in? Does he call the Ortho who calls me to call the surgeon? Do I call the surgeon?" Worst fear was waiting for a phone to ring that was NEVER going to ring. So of course I did the calling. First to the Ortho to make sure molds had been sent. She assured me she had personally couriered them & they should arrive at destination chop-shop by Friday. That it was totally acceptable to call and set something up if I hadn't heard anything by the middle of next week.

Of course, my brain interpreted this as "D'uh! If he'll have them Friday, I'm calling Friday!"

I did. And lovely Tanya was amazingly patient with me. Those models had just marched in the door. Know when the next date is for a re-consult? April 6th! Know what the best thing is since sliced bread? A cancellation list! Guess what sweetness and all thing light gets you? A spot at the top of it! What will be the death of me in the meantime? Waiting for that phone to ring.

The moral of this circular tale: Always be nice with the one controlling the appointment books. When my phone rings, Tanya's totally getting cookies.