Graphic Content Warning.
My surgery was 25 days ago.
I’m sitting here, enjoying my coffee. I’ve started to crochet my first-ever slipper.
I’m settling in to watch yet another episode of “Homeland.”
Jim is baking muffins.
The dogs are curled up like commas on the couch, happy their people are nearby.
All is quiet.
I think I’ve finally mastered “Netflix and Chill.” (Edit: Actually watching Netflix and chilling – no euphemism intended!)
And my phone rings.
It’s a local number, but not one that’s in my contacts list.
I assume that it’s a home care nurse; they often call from their cell phones.
So I answer.
“Good morning Karmen. It’s Dr. Quinlan.”
I practically fall off the couch.
It takes me a second to decide if I’m impressed or terrified.
“How are you doing?”
I give him a quick update. The nurses are happy; the wound was slightly shallower on Saturday than it was on Thursday, and I appear to have developed a mild yeast infection – likely caused by the antibiotic.
He tells me that he is reviewing yesterday’s swab samples.
That he personally called infectious disease control.
That the Amoxicillin/Clavulanic Acid combination that I’ve been on since Tuesday is working, but that the lab is suggesting that I switch to Ciprofloxacin as there is a second strain of bacteria that needs addressing.
“Which pharmacy do you use?”
“Ummmm…..London Drugs on Yates Street.”
Yes. Of course. Anything you say Doctor.
“Great. See you Tuesday.”
Can I just say mega impressed?!
It’s Sunday morning and this Doctor is calling me at home to tell me that less than 24 hours after a swab was done, he has spoken with infectious disease control and is personally switching my antibiotic?
A swab that was done, not because he ordered it, but because I asked the nurse to do it.
That he is personally calling my pharmacy to order the prescription.
And to keep doing everything else that I’m doing.
Talk about gratitude.
I’m not quite sure what do say except.
“Thank you. See you Tuesday.”