Dr. Crane: "You got that out yet?"
Me: "No."
Dr. Crane: "Why not?"
Me: "I ain't showin' you the hole in my head unless you give me a nickel."
Dr. Crane solemnly borrowed a nickel from his nurse, handed it to me, and shined the light in my mouth. He told me later that he really ought to be getting a cut of whatever I make on that trick. Then, after turning away to his notes for a moment, he turned back and said (again solemnly), "See what I did there? CUT! Ha."
Anyway, I'm healing well, but as he said, I have a lot of healing left to do. I can probably go back to work in two weeks or thereabouts, provided I'm intelligible enough and have stamina enough to wear the obdurator for twelve hours at work.
And in the sheesh....department, I got a very snippy letter today from the folks at CoUnited InterInsurance SuperCorp. Seems they'd been trying to get hold of me on the phone, and couldn't manage to do so, and could I please call them at my earliest opportunity to make sure that CoUnited InterInsurance SuperCorp was facilitating the Best Care Possible for me?
As is the case on every. single. piece of paperwork. I get. from the insurance company, this one had a header with my diagnosis and treatment: LGPA WITH RIGHT TOTAL PALATECTOMY, ALVEOLAR RESECTION, LEFT PARTIAL PALATECTOMY.
This particular piece of paperwork had been signed by either a human or a very human-like computer, in ball-point-pen. Yet it had not occurred to this human--or to any other one at CUIISC--that I might have trouble talking because I have nothing left of the back of my throat or the roof of my mouth.
I'm going to write the happy people at CUIISC a very nice letter in the morning, telling them that I'm sorry I've missed their calls and that I'll be happy to return them as soon as I am physically able to speak. But only if they give me a nickel first.