It makes me crazy when I forget things. Almost as crazy as it does to be late. But that is an entirely differently beast- although I have totally tamed it.
I may or may not have had the following telephone conversation with Sue, the receptionist at the OB’s office this summer several times.
“Hey Sue, I’m calling to see when my next appointment is. I think it is coming up soon, but I can’t remember.”
“Uh… you mean your appointment than was an HOUR ago?” Or… “Oh, you mean for your appointment that was yesterday?”
In my defense, I used to get a reminder call 48 hours before my appointment. And I fully believe the robot calling me is a complete flake. And therefore it is ROBO’s fault that I missed (and rescheduled) THREE pregnancy visits.
Except that it is totally my fault. I am an adult. I own a “smart” phone. I just am not apparently smart enough to put my appointments in my calendar.
My labor with Lola was pretty epic this summer. Click here to read the whole story, if you haven’t already. The tear was gnarly and I’m pretty sure my hoo-ha will never be the same.
The friends who sent this card had NO IDEA how spot on their question was. I spared them the dirty details.
So fast forward to this week. I’m approximately six weeks postpartum now and I’ve got my visit with my OB on my mind to check in on the damage. ROBO still hasn’t called because well, he’s a jerk but I’m pretty sure it is Tuesday. I told my husband to please clear is afternoon so he could handle preschool pick up.
I called in the morning to confirm my appointment with my gal Sue.
“Oh hey, NJ! Are you calling to reschedule your appointment? The one you missed LAST WEEK?”
My appointment has been rescheduled for November something. I missed FOUR appointments.
The details are in the calendar on my phone for this one. Reminders and reminders of reminders have been set.
Because I’ve got my big girl panties on and ROBO is as reliable as a Zach Morris cell phone.
This post is part of a 31 day series about Big Girl Panties. Click here to read of the series.