In which I attempt to call in the Cavalry

Last night I decided to get the patient liaison people involved with Mum's appointment fiasco. I phoned the PALS this morning, who said they would try to contact the appropriate matron to help. I've just spoken to matron, who made all the right noises, but essentially nothing is really happening. Mum's oncologist is away, so the matron has simply gone to put a note on said oncologist's desk. She told me that the oncologist has a clinic at a different hospital on Monday morning, so might not even see the note until Tuesday. When I asked if someone would be letting me know what's happening, matron blustered like a senior politician on Newsnight, so I asked again if someone would let me know. Eventually she said that she would keep a copy of the email that PALS had sent through and she would check up on everything next week.

I am left wondering if all this is good enough. Cancer seems all about waiting, frustration, organising, waking up with a sense of dread in the morning, chasing things up. It doesn't seem very much about caring right now.

Using the word cavalry in the title of this post actually reminds me of my favourite Emily Dickinson poem:

To fight aloud, is very brave -
But gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
The Cavalry of Woe -

Fighting aloud doesn't seem to have got me very far this time. Maybe you are right Emily.