Drat this working for a living all to heck.

So. Remember I was to call the doctor again at the hospital switchboard today at noon? Did. After some really dreadful musak, a very rushed receptionist answered, did not rebuff my request, but instead asked for my phone number for the doctor to call me back because he was busy.

No call.

At ten to 2:00 I called his office, asking for a phone appointment and meeting some quibbling, so again I just left it in her lap.

I am not calling that dude again.

Again - I suspect my self-satisfied truculent attitude is buoyed by the fact that I don't really think anything life-threatening is going on.

In related news, I still have a dry cough from the procedure, but I feel pretty good. Considering what a theatrical event it is when I inhale a cat hair, and the body coughs hysterically to get it out, and the rawness and wheezing that results, I was really expecting that having a camera hose shoved in there repeatedly would have left *some* sensation afterwards. Nothing. The spots where samples were taken are the spots that provoke the dry cough - and by the second day after there was little of that sensation.

I was aware for a lot of the procedure. There was numbing in the throat, and I was given some "sedation", but I really do feel that I was aware for all of it. There was a big TV screen right where I could see it easily (yes, they even let me keep my glasses on), and it was pretty interesting. I was expecting the lungs to be a dry place, but no, they are pretty much body soggy. I did close my eyes for some of the things that sounded (they spoke about what they were going to do, and what each person should do) like they were going to be future freak-out fodder, and maybe those periods were longer than I thought, but really I do feel that I didn't miss much. I even watched as the doctor phoned in his report, and it went on and on.

All in all, the procedure itself was interesting and well-done. I would agree to do that procedure again.

So. Remember the bronchoscopy? I was to phone the doctor's office for a follow up appointment in two weeks.

Called. He's away for two weeks, and he is fully booked until October.

So, I told his reception person my woes about trying to call him at the hospital, and then left the whole problem in her lap.

I completely wash my hands of this. I assume (I know) that if something horrible is going on that someone will let me know before it kills me. I suspect I feel this way because I don't really think something lethal is going on.

In the meantime I am wrestling with a small annoyance. For the three mornings after the procedure I am to cough up whatever is in my lung and spit it into a specially prepared receptacle. There is a receptacle for each morning. My problem is two-fold: I don't have very much to cough up, and I was taught very thoroughly not to spit, so getting the very little I've got into the receptacle almost involves a barf reflex. Oh well. I hope I'm getting something more than just saliva into the little tub.