Waiting (Part One of many, I fear)

The next 24 hours were, I naively thought, amongst the longest of my life.  Not quite as long as the last hour of giving birth, or ratching the clock between painkillers after having my wisdom teeth dug out.. but definitely up there with the 'waiting for the driving test examiner'.  Still, time passed.  No phone call.  I checked the ansaphone obsessively, just in case the phone had mysteriously rung on silent/whilst I was in the loo/shower/staring blankly at the telly.

I gave in and rang my surgery 48 hours after the first appointment.  The receptionist gave me the number to call, which I did - it put me straight through to the main reception at the hospital.  I explained why I was calling, and was transferred to the rapid referral clinic.  Then on to someone else, who assured me my paperwork was there, and I would get a phone call before 4pm the next day (Thursday).

At 4.02pm the next day, I rang back.  Lovely lady, answered the phone 'appointments', and then told me that she could find no trace of my paperwork, but on hearing the hysteria creeping in to my voice, soothingly told me that she would make me an appointment there and then.. the first one available.  Thursday next week. Ok, thank you, and I hung up.  Then realised that I wasn't even sure that I'd been through to the right person - having been passed around from department to department, given different numbers to ring.. what if I'd just made an ante-natal appointment??  I rang my doctor's surgery again...

The next morning, my doctor rang me to reassure this (by now incredibly irritating and neurotic) woman that I had indeed made an appointment with the breast clinic, and a confirmation letter would be in the post.