So, after the respiratory specialist (r.s.) did a biopsy of the lump in my lung last week, and the pathologist confirmed it as cancer, the r.s. told me he would send a referral to the cancer clinic down the big city.
In theory, that puts me in the queue for some radiotherapy on the lump. As the lump is also bleeding, I should be triaged to the top of the queue.
Today, I decided to check that the referral had in fact arrived, because until it gets there, I don’t exist. It was to have been faxed, which, again in theory, means instant transmission.
Nope. Nothing there. The head girl in the referral office sent an email to the lead clinician, on the off-chance the fax had somehow finished up in his Inbox. Then she checked with the other girl (o.g.) in her office to find out if the o.g. was sitting on it. Then she suggested I checked with the r.s. to make sure the fax had in fact been sent.
Yep. It had been sent five hours earlier. Back to the referral office. This time the phone was answered by the o.g.. I asked her to double check her files.
Then she said, “Just hang on a sec; I want to check something.”
Moments later she said, “Is your name The Backward OX?”
“Yep,” quoth yours truly.
“And is your doctor, Dr Fred Nerk?”
“I’ve found it. it was jammed under the lid of the photocopier.”
I mean, this is only the largest cancer clinic in the State, prolly one of the biggest in the country, and a person’s life is controlled by a frickin’ faulty photocopier!