After such a helpful conversation with the gal at my Nurse Practitioner's office on Thursday, I called the Occupational Therapy office on Monday morning. Full of hope, you know, to finally get this knee business off the starting line. To see what can be done to improve the circulation so the skin doesn't look red and continue to spook the orthopedist into not replacing my knee.
I waited until 10:40 a.m. Long enough for them to get into their Monday morning routine. After the morning rush. Before lunches. Between breaks.
Occ Gal was friendly. Didn't seem rushed. I told her I had been referred by my NP.
"What is your name again? And address? Phone number? Oh, I see it here. Is there a reason you're calling us?"
"Because I was told to. By my NP's office. This has been going on for over a month. I've been told that somebody will call me. Then they don't. I check back. I'm told to call them myself, to make an appointment. So now I'm calling you. To make an appointment for an evaluation, and possible treatment."
"Okay. We currently have a waitlist for lymphedema. But I will put you down, and we will call you when there's an opening."
"All right. So it will happen when it happens? I don't need to do anything else?"
"That's right. You don't have to make any more calls."
"Well... that's good to know, anyway! Thank you so much."
Meanwhile, nothing has changed. My next appointment with my NP, to see if there's been improvement, is May 13. I'm predicting that the findings will be the same. You know, because I'm such a psychic.
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