I Hate Fancy Hospital

It is 11:30 and I should be on my way to my last chemo appointment, along with my friend S who flew in from San Francisco for escort duty, but Fancy does not have me on the schedule. In fact, I am not on the schedule until a month hence. I called this morning to see if I needed to be there at noon, my appointment time, or later, because I often wait and wait in the huge and distressing cancer ward waiting area. I also called because I remembered I didn't get a printout of this appointment, though it was understood I was coming in today at noon. Or I thought it was understood. After seven sessions on Mondays at noon (one on a Tuesday because of a holiday), and being told that Taxol is administered every two weeks, I thought it was obvious that I should be seen today at noon. But my nurse is on vacation, and I think her backup is on vacation, and given Fancy Hospital's tendency to overbook (worse than the airlines? I can't decide) I should not assume anything. But I did. I am very very very upset.

My voice cracks when I talk on the phone to the receptionists and chemo administrative director and the nurse who called me back after she was (allegedly) paged twice in 45 minutes. And so now it is 11:52 and I have been called back and told I have my appointment at 1. I can't tell you how momentous the last day of chemo is. It is, well, the last day of chemo. The end of the beginning. The end of feeling you are blasting the cancer away and now you are left up to your own devices and tamoxifen. P said her father became angry when his chemo ended and I understand why.