How to Feel Joy

Something I've noticed with some of my clients, and in my own life, is that some of us struggle to feel joy when it shows up in our lives. We tend to glance over it without even acknowledging it because we are on to the next thing on the to do list.

It's like we don't know how to be with good feelings. Weird, huh?

You'd think that people would LOVE to feel happy, excited, even blissful and ecstatic, but many of us skip right through it, over it, around it without actually spending any time revelling in it. 

With all the sadness, injustice and other bad shit happening in the world, I thought I'd write a little how-to on feeling joy. That way, when something good happens to us, we can squeeze all the goodness out of that occasion, which will serve to bolster us for the sad/bad/scary/unfair stuff that is bound to show up later. 

How to Feel Joy in 5 Easy-ish Steps

1. Notice it.

Some of us don't even notice when we are happy. We don't pay attention to our bodies, which send us information ALL THE TIME. Your body won't lie to you -- when you feel joyful, happy or any other flavour on the joy continuum, your body will give you signals. For me, everything rises: my eyebrows and eyelids, the corners of my mouth, my chest as my lungs fill, the tone and volume of my voice, my hands to wildly animate what I'm saying.

Your body may do something different -- tingles in your fingers and toes, flippity-flopping in your tummy, rapid breathing, giddy laughter. You get the idea. So, start noticing the messages your body is sending your mind. Notice your posture, temperature, pace of breathing, your energy level, and begin to recognize where joy lives in your body. You might begin to name the level or degree or type of joy you are experiencing: is it calm contentedness, or absolute ecstasy, or something in between? 

2. Be with it. 

Put down your device. Turn off other distractions. Be with the joy. Even if it feels uncomfortable at first. Joy is an emotion. Emotions are energy in motion. They bring us information that we can turn into thoughts, then actions, then behaviours. Joy asks us, "What wants to be celebrated or appreciated?" Let yourself sit in the emotion of joy as you listen for the answer.  

3. Stay in it.

Many of us have the next three (or 15) things to do lined up in our minds while we're doing the current thing. Allow yourself to put the to do's or other future thoughts (including worries about the joy disappearing) aside. Don't talk yourself out of feeling joy! Invite it in. Let it fill you up, or wash over you, or take up all your field of vision, or close your eyes and feel it surge through your body. Ask it to stay. And savour it for as long as it lasts. 

4. Thank it.

Offer your appreciation for the experience of feeling joy. You may want to thank the cause of the joy -- the event, person or other situation that allowed the joy to show up. Cultivating gratitude for what is will prime your body and mind to experience more joy in the future. You'll be better able to notice small moments of joy when you practice gratitude regularly.

5. Share it.

After you've lived your joy fully, tell someone else about your experience. This action will help the joy carry forward in your life, and it will spread to someone else's. Telling stories expands our experiences and helps embed them in our memories. We get to relive the joy -- in our bodies and minds -- each time we tell the story of it. So do! Imagine the awesome conversations we'd have if we all shared our most joyful moments with each other!

That's it. I'm hoping you find something to be joyful about today, and give yourself the gift of experiencing it fully. Then notice how things might shift in your life, and let me know how it goes. 

In love and light,

Jilly

Boundaries and Spaciousness

Winter is my least favourite time of year. I feel my shoulders rise, my face tighten and the rest of my body clench in preparation for the harshest and most unforgiving Saskatchewan season. Each fall, I mentally and physically prepare for the worst -- minus 40 degree Celsius temperatures; strong northerly winds that freeze your skin in seconds; cars that don't start with windows that won't defrost; drifts and ridges of snow and ice that make driving treacherous; and everything takes longer, more effort and requires an emergency kit at the ready, just in case.

It means getting up in the dark, earlier than normal, just to get the kid to school and myself to work on time. And hoping the heating system and sewer system and generator will all keep working on the very coldest days so I don't have to call the neighbours to come out of their warm houses to troubleshoot. It means watching the weather throughout the day to determine if I need to leave work early to make it through a snowstorm to the sitter's before closing. It means going to work and leaving work in the dark. And then repeat, day after day after long, well actually short, winter day.

And this year, I'm facing it all without a back-up -- no extra vehicle in case mine doesn't start; no extra parent in case I'm running late; no one else to clear the yard and deck and steps of snow, to grab groceries on the way home from the too-peopley places, to help with homework, to remember the December birthdays on top of the holiday festivities, to help choose the Christmas concert outfit, to do the hair, to watch and applaud in the audience, to calm and soothe an over-excited six-and-three-quarters-year-old child's mind well past her bedtime on a school night.

I know that there are lone parents all over the world who juggle the demands of parenting, often of multiple kids, and work, family, friends and all kinds of other stuff all the time. And, I know this living arrangement is our conscious choice, and that it may take many more months until we are reunited permanently. I am not complaining. I am stating the fact that it is hard. Especially during winter in Saskatchewan (even though this one has been pretty easy so far). And I am acknowledging that I wasn't handling it all very effectively or gracefully.

I really haven't been myself these last couple of months.

I needed to make some changes to make it more manageable and get back to being me. 

I knew something needed to change about a month ago -- I was short with my kid, short with my colleagues, disconnected from my spouse and near tears almost all the time. I felt completely overwhelmed and like I was failing at everything in my life -- with my team at work, on the big project at work, as a parent, as a partner, and as a coach -- I sure wasn't feeling very resilient or positive or able to support others in their own journeys of self-realization. I felt like a hypocrite. I had lost touch with nature -- I can't remember the last time I spent any time outside or took the dog for a walk. And I felt like I didn't have any friends, outside of work and Facebook. (Not that I don't LOVE my co-workers! I so do!) I remember the moment my parents offered to have C spend the night at their place on an upcoming Friday, and I could go out with adults for an evening. I couldn't think of anyone to make plans with. Who were my friends? It had been so long since I'd gotten together with people in a social setting, I couldn't remember who to contact. Or maybe more importantly, who I could be un-peppy, maybe a bit snarky, and mildly lethargic around. Cue the self pity.

I got the confirmation (aka slap upside the head) I needed while attending two days of mental health first aid training through my organization. I checked all the boxes for depression and anxiety, both in full bloom. I had suspected as much, based on my history with these two diseases, but I don't think I wanted to admit it.

I was too busy to be sick. 

But I knew too much was at stake to avoid the truth, and I'm a vocal advocate for mental health awareness, so I figured I needed to walk the talk. 

So I named my depression and anxiety and asked for help. 

I have super-supportive and understanding managers at work, so I created some strong work boundaries with their help. I switched from working full-time leading a branch AND managing a huge organizational change project AND coaching clients in and outside of work, to cutting back to three days a week, and when possible,  at my manager's insistence, working one of them from home, and removing myself from the big project.

After two weeks, my shoulders have STARTED to drop slightly. I still have multiple moments of panic throughout the day -- What am I forgetting? Where am I supposed to be? Where's the kid? What time is it? Where's the dog? What deadline must I meet? Have I missed it? Do we need milk? Is it time to FaceTime C's dad? WHO ELSE NEEDS SOMETHING FROM ME??? -- and add to that the busy-ness of this time of year (and we don't even make a big deal out of it) -- but I'm getting better at breathing through those moments and reminding myself that I have space and time.

My main focus right now is on being a present parent. I'm trying to keep the holiday magic alive for C -- she's in love with holiday movies right now, and making gifts for people. I'm trying to help her plan her seventh birthday party -- one here, one in BC. And manage her expectations about what Santa will or will not bring her. And feed her and bathe her and make sure she hasn't outgrown all her pants and get her homework done and make sure she's at the appropriate reading level. And work through her emotions with all the changes going on in our lives, and the impact living apart from her dad has on her. I'm trying to keep her healthy and happy and learning and curious and believing in magic.

Honestly, I'm just trying to keep it all together. 

I'm trying to make healthy choices to support movement out of depression. Some days I'm successful, and others I give myself permission to just be however I am. Some days only the smallest of actions are celebrated -- getting dressed, drinking water, eating something healthy, getting C to the sitter's on time to get to school. I'm trying to let the judgement this disease screams inside my head go, or to at least quiet it. To treat myself gently, kindly. And some days, binge-watching Outlander feels like the right choice. Until it isn't. And then I try something else. With forgiveness and compassion.

I'm trying to slow down. Sit with, be with, be present. Breathe. Quiet my mind. Nourish my body. Keep things simple. Seek what I need to feel strong and healthy and resilient again. Give myself the space and time to listen and hear. Take guidance from the upcoming solstice, the shortest day of the year, and hope for light after the longest night. And not expect too much of myself.

That one's the hardest for me. 

As a coach, it's easy to fall into believing that you should have your poop in a group all the time. I'm here to tell you that's not realistic. Coaches are people too -- yes, people with good understanding of self, access to many resources, and connection to a community of caring, compassionate people. AND we don't always have it together (whatever that means)!

It is my hope by sharing my real self, modelling vulnerability and honesty, exposing my challenges and imperfections, you will be inspired to be your true self, and to ask for help, should you need it.  

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If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health challenges this time of year, there is help. 211 Saskatchewan is a one-stop-shop for community resources across Saskatchewan including crisis support lines. 

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In love and light,

Jilly

Living in limboland

The winds of change are blowing across southern Saskatchewan and knocking all the dehydrated leaves off our trees. Because it has been so dry, they barely had a chance to change colour and they're tumbling across my yard and over the horizon. Fall is all but here, and today I felt the first hints of winter: single digit temperatures and an icy wind. AND IT IS STILL TECHNICALLY SUMMER. But this will be my last prairie fall, or Second Season of the Wind, so I'll take it. 

Our family is relocating.

It's a big change for us: hopping two provinces westward, embracing a different climate (huzzah!), creating new routines, forming new community and shifting our lifestyle. It's exciting and it fell into place after almost four years of tentative dreaming (after each summer vacation: wouldn't it be nice to stay here forever?), dedicated planning (husband working the network to get a new job; purging the house; number-crunching; letting go of our dream farm-future) and starry and planetary alignment (the job offer came on the eclipse!). 

But I'm living in limboland right now, and will be for the foreseeable future.

My husband left yesterday to relocate to our new life. 

I get to stay here in our "old" life, job, house and routines until our home/farm sells.

Then we'll all be reunited on a dreamy island off the west coast of Canada.  

Limboland is a weird place. I'm super duper excited about what's next -- after all, I'm a what's next kind of person (great starter, not such a strong finisher, because LOOK OVER THERE AT THAT NEW THING! I want to go there!), but I have to contain my excitement and not live too far into future, because the current/old life could continue for months, or maybe a year a more. And I will run out of enthusiasm/energy/optimism mid-way. 

So, I'm trying to keep smaller milestones in sight: Get the house listed. Get the man-friend packed up and off on his travels. Get the child settled into another school year. Get the projects done at work. Coach the amazing clients. Make the bed. Empty the dishwasher. Walk the dog. Sell the stuff. Sell the house. And still keep the dream alive. 

It's interesting to notice how I'm NOT COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT, ahem, how I'm embracing the un-planned-ness of my future -- once the house sells and I quit my full-time gig here, I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S NEXT. There is no plan, other than a vague idea of ramping up my coaching practice and then... who knows? There is something totally scary AND freeing in the not knowing. 

I'm revelling in the idea of being a full-er-time coach, being able to walk my kiddo to and from school and kung fu and go kayaking some morning JUST BECAUSE I WANT TO. Maybe I'll host art-based coaching workshops from our new garage-turned-studio space...and teach meditation classes at the local rec centre....and write those other books I've been meaning to write.

Ditching the 8-5 office job seems a critical next and permanent step.

I'm especially looking forward to embracing a more minimal lifestyle. Being a single-car family, living in a smaller home with a smaller (non-farm) yard, enjoying more experiences and time with each other and less stuff. It means I won't need to be tied to that 8-5 grind because we won't be reliant on it. More freedom. 

I'm torn between starting new things here and now, and waiting until I've moved. So, I've tested out a few things to see if they shift the universe (i.e., send a buyer for our place), including:

• Getting new photos with the fabulously talented Michael Bell. The sprucing up of this site will follow soon. 
• Signing up for a kung fu class (my kid is attending one, and there's an adult class at the same time, so there really didn't seem to be a reason NOT to...)
• Collaborating to co-lead a women's retreat next spring in a forest near Vancouver (!!!)
• Buying an ungodly amount of delicious fancy-pants cheese from my pal Aleana at Takeaway Gourmet
• Committing to a new workout routine (Did you see the note about the cheese? Ugh.)

I'll keep you posted on the imminent move, and what it's like in between now and then, and then some. 

In love and light,

Jilly

What's next?

I’ve been quiet over the summer. Offline. But still here.

After being quite open and out-in-the-world about my health issues earlier this year, it felt right to be quieter and out-of-view. 

I returned to work mid-May and it’s be a flurry of activity, followed by the end of the school year in June, summer camp, offering meditation gatherings at my farm in July and then a family vacation for two weeks. And suddenly it’s August.

I’ve used the time to give some ideas space and just, well, be with them. See what delicious elixir might steep into my cup, what calls to my heart to do, create, become, next.

I've watched colleagues and other people I admire from afar launch new offerings, new businesses, new relationships into the world. Cheering for them, sitting in the success and newness with them, feeling content to be on the sidelines. Not pushing anything out, fast, forward. Just, being.

Waiting, opening, observing, pondering, welcoming, discerning.

I’m not sure what’s next, exactly, in terms of my offerings. It doesn’t have words yet. Not specific ones, anyway. More like hints, nuances, whiffs. Like someone hovering, just around the corner, not yet fully in focus. And I’m not rushing it. I’m working on opening my heart, being still, noticing. These days move too quickly.

Thank you for your patience, if you’ve been waiting for what’s next from me. It’s coming. It may not be perfect or fully-formed, and that’s okay. It will be of service.

I have a couple of one-on-one coaching spots open starting this month, if you’re looking to find your “next thing.” Reach out if it feels right. 

Take good care,

Jilly

10 Tips for Healing (and a bonus!)

As I've been settling in to being at home, healing, for the next many weeks, I've compiled what's helping with my healing. It's a list (of course). I'm hoping it may help others who are on a healing journey. Enjoy!

1. Choose your attitude

While I'd love to be at work contributing as a productive member of my team and organization, I'm not going to lament being house-bound. Before heading into surgery, I got my head around being in a different mode when I came out the other side. I consciously chose a perspective in which to stand during the coming weeks, with a focus on listening to my body, taking things slowly, and doing what feels good in the moment, in honour of my body getting what it needs in the short-term so that I may return to my full life as quickly as possible.

I choose to see these weeks of healing as a gift. So many people around the world don't have the luxury of an employer that allows them time away without penalty. I'm grateful for mine, and for the flexibility of my coaching clients who enable me to work around my healing needs. I'm also grateful my husband is able to take compassionate care leave from his place of employment to cater to my every whim and demand. Oh, and to keep our house running, because all I can do is cook and take items out of the washing machine one at a time...I'm not allowed to vacuum, push a shopping cart, lift a basket of clothes, or reach the higher shelves...so, while I could feel pretty useless (and I do!), I choose to remember this is temporary. 

I'm calling my stance, or attitude, "healing." It's something I can go back to when I'm feeling restless or frustrated at not being able to DO things or whatever. I follow it up with a question to help ground me and enable the best healing for me: "Is this a healing choice?"

2. Sleep

We all know we need sleep to heal at any old time, and this is especially true following trauma to the body. I took this opportunity to have our mattress flipped (thanks husband!), put on clean sheets (with help, of course) and switch out our duvet for lighter spring/summer blankets. This has resulted in better sleeping at night. I've also gone to be earlier than normal, and sleep in a bit later than normal. AND, I've taken an afternoon nap (so glorious!!), or at least some quiet time, every day after lunch.

I'm listening to what my body needs to have quality sleep in the quantity it needs for maximum healing. I'm a big fan (although sometimes not the best follower) of bedtime rituals. They work for kids AND adults! We made the conscious choice to exclude screens from our bedrooms. We read with cozy lighting before sleeping. Sometimes we run a scented diffuser. We have blackout blinds for total velvety darkness. We quickly remove the snoring and/or dreaming dog from our room if he impedes our peaceful sleep. We all do better with a good night's sleep.  

3. Water

Water is life. Period. I've consumed more water in the past week than I have in the previous month, I'm sure. I'm drinking up to four litres a day. That's about 16 cups, if my math-y goodness skills are up to snuff. I'm taking it in the form of water from my tap (from my well, then cleaned and filtered through my $20k water treatment system), herbal teas (which I'm not usually into...so unsatisfying...), warm water with freshly-squeezed lemon with honey from my neighbour's farm, chilled and yummy coconut water, and a steaming mug of miso every day. The benefits are numerous: my digestion is improved; I feel more clear mentally; I've flushed out a nasty cold in record time; I feel less hungry during the day. 

4. Fresh air and sunshine

It is finally spring on the Prairies. The temperatures are above zero most of the time and a couple days ago it was warm enough to sit on my screened deck in the sunshine while I drank my morning coffee. Yay! The birds are back! We have about a thousand square feet of deck wrapping our house in three directions, so I can follow the sun throughout the day. Fresh air equals better sleep. Sunshine equals Vitamin D and happiness. All equal healing. 

5. Light and easy movement

My discharge papers direct me to walk as I am able, as it will help with healing. I've been going for two 30 to 60-minute walks every day. Our fields are dry enough that I can trudge through them and rediscover the rolling hills, sloughs and bluffs on our property. I can see the damage the pocket gophers have wreaked on our land, and witness the geese, ducks and red-winged black birds returning to our marsh. I've seen our resident fox sneaking through the taller grasses, and I'm on the lookout for the badgers that emerge slowly from the ground before the new hay starts to green. I recommend walking with a dog, if at all possible. They tend to set a good pace and help you pause from time to time to just take in your surroundings while they try to dig out a gopher, shoulder-deep in the moist dirt. I'm hoping to re-establish some gentle yoga asanas in the coming weeks as well. 

6. Nutrient-rich foods

Growing up diabetic, I'm super knowledgeable about nutrition, and how food impacts my body. I don't buy in to fads or crazes, strict diets, magical supplements or other politicization of food. Better food choices means better blood sugar control which means better healing. It's pretty simple. 

Food is fuel. Choose the best fuel for YOUR body. Pay attention to how what you eat makes you feel. The human body can turn almost anything you put in it into energy, so why not treat it with some respect and give it something good, at least most of the time, I figure. Especially when your body is repairing and rebuilding cells and tissues. Choose foods that are as close to whole and real as possible. You know, like fruits and vegetables, whole grains, eggs, fish. We all need fibre, protein and healthy fats to function, and eating whole, colourful foods -- a variety of them -- will speed healing.

Am I going for ice cream this weekend? Damn straight. Am I dreaming about that first post-surgery glass of wine on the deck on a warm evening? You bet. Am I eating whole, real food at most meals? Yes. Will I heal more quickly and thoroughly because of these choices? I believe so.

7. Tuning in

I mentioned before that I'm paying attention to my body and listening for what it needs to heal. To assist with the intentionality of this, I'm focusing my daily meditation practice on my healing. Sometimes I'll do a guided visualization, other times I'll be in silence, and other times I'll sit with a thought or question. This daily tuning in allows me the decadent stillness I need to feel grounded and whole. It calms my nervous system and clears away the chatter in my mind. It's helping me to hear my body's messages about what I need to heal. 

8. Distraction

Let's be honest: sometimes you just don't want to think about your health or other life responsibilities. I totally get that. That's where distraction and escape come in as a healthy part of healing. I've been diving into a stack of books, articles, documentaries and films. My mind is being redirected to something other than myself and my current situation, and expanded at the same time. I'm trying to limit my screen time each day because I know my tendency to get sucked into binge-watching will throw all the other things on this list out the window. I'm leaning on my question, "Is this a healing choice?" a lot! 

9. Connection

Though the magic of the interwebs, I'm able to feel connected...to you! Human connection is so important, especially in times of healing. I'm revelling in spending more time with my family at home this past week, and connecting with friends, clients and colleagues (virtually at the moment, but hopefully in real-life in the coming weeks!). I also recently joined Meetup. I'm looking forward to planning some fun and stress-free get-togethers for local folks in my Playful Joy meetup! 

10. Comfort

Never underestimate the healing powers of:

• a hot shower
• clean sheets
• fresh flowers
• yoga pants
• cozy blankets
• snuggles from a pooch
• cranking up your favourite music and dancing around the house (very carefully!)

Find what brings your comfort, and indulge. 

BONUS: 

11. Vision

Having a vision of the future -- for when you're all healed up good-like -- will pull you forward when things get tough or boring or whatevs. Create a list of the things you're looking forward to doing, people you're looking forward to hanging with, and places you're looking forward to visiting. Post it where you can see it. Add to it. Make it juicy! 

Right now, mine includes things like:

• planting our garden!
• starting a big, exciting project at work!
• wearing pants with non-stretchy waistbands!
• going grocery shopping by myself! 
• enjoying some sexy times with my husband (I mean, have you seen him?!) 

I'm hoping some of these tips will resonate with you. Take what you like, leave the rest. You do you. 

In love and light,

Jilly

On being present

Souls who braved the un-spring-like weather on the first day of spring to splash in puddles

I've been absent from writing here for a few weeks. I apologize if you've missed me!

Here's the quick update: I had a second and final surgery to remove cancer from my body on March 30. Following the first surgery (February 21), I healed quickly and was back to work in two weeks. This time, I will need to heal for at least six. This will be different for me. I don't often do "nothing." I will get to play with the "being" side of life for a change.

Here's the longer reflection: Leading up to this surgery, I didn't have the trepidation and anxiety I experienced with the first. I knew what to expect in terms of how the hospital process works. I had two opinions from two separate and confident doctors that this was the correct course of action. I had my advanced care plan, my will, my funeral arrangements all in place. I knew I would vomit all over myself from the anesthetic, and I accepted that a helpful recovery room nurse would assist me with that hot mess.

I reflect now that I was truly living in each moment leading up to the surgery. I mean, I still planned ahead and coordinated the logistics of child and dog care during my hospital time, weened myself off coffee in a methodically-planned way, and made all the appropriate arrangements for time off work, but my mind was at ease as I went about these tasks. I consciously stayed present, in the now. 

And frankly, I was focused on other things.

I went to see Joey Tremblay's "BAD BLOOD"  -- please, see it if you are able, when is near you. 

Spring arrived on March 20. While this winter wasn't especially hard on the Canadian Prairies, the arrival of spring is always welcomed with relief and a sense of accomplishment. I decided spontaneously to hold a flash mob to celebrate by splashing in mud puddles and dancing in public (that's us in the picture above).

I spent a couple of hours one day writing down a story that has been in my brain for a few years, and then submitted it to a publisher, because WHY THE HELL NOT, right?! YOLO, as the young folks say.

The provincial budget fiasco happened, annual taxes needed to be filed, parent-teacher conferences needed to be conducted, a re-org went down at work. There was just a lot of life happening, all the time, so I did that, rather than be in my head about the future.

And then it was 4:50 a.m. on Thursday and it was time to get up and go to the hospital.  

It wasn't until I was in the pre-op bed, draped in the hospital's most flattering (aka, revealing) gowns, that two grown humans could not get to tie up appropriately, having the tiny veins in my hands skewered by not one, but two nurses attempting to get an IV in, that I realized, "Oh shit, how tightly did I hug C last night? Should I have made better farewell videos? What haven't I said to M that I should have?" And of course, it was too late, and so I breathed and hoped I would wake up again. And that the damn IV would be in already. Truthfully, of the entire surgical experience, having my hands stabbed repeatedly was the most painful thing. Either that or my MRI-booking process (more on that in a minute).

Surgery was textbook, no surprises, no complications. The waking up was long and slow and uncomfortable. I'm a slow metabolizer of everything, so after being unconscious for three hours, it took most of the next 24 hours following to regain full consciousness. I dozed off and on in the short stay ward, as much as I was able, because NOISE and VITALS and HAVING TO PEE ALL THE TIME AND FOREVEEEEERRRRR due to so much fluid and so many drugs in my system.

When the doctor visited mid-afternoon and said I could go home, if I wanted, we hopped to it, as much as someone with incisions in their abdomen can. I carried on my dozing at home that evening, and waited for my saliva production to return so I could eat something. I took my pain meds like clockwork, as I had been advised to stay ahead of the pain. After two days, I was off everything. Well, back on coffee! Huzzah! 

Overall, the care I received between the first inklings of something being amiss (January 19) to being out of surgery on March 30 was fantastic. The only real bit of so-ridiculous-it's-funny-but-not-ha-ha-funny-more-like-sad-funny was the process to get an MRI scheduled. Here is a run-down of how that went:

On March 1, I saw my doctor and she indicated she would book me for an MRI the following week, ahead of the second surgery, just to be sure there wasn't anything else going on in my insides that she needed to be concerned with. 

Phone call 1. March 9: A message was left on my phone to call the MRI department to get my appointment information. 

Phone call 2. I called the number they had left and was told by the person who answered that I needed to call a different number.

Phone call 3. I called the second number and left a message. 

Phone call 4. March 10: The next morning, having heard nothing back, I called the first number again. The person who answered JUST NEEDED TO VERIFY WHICH PHONE NUMBER THEY COULD REACH ME AT TO SCHEDULE THE APPOINTMENT. I politely verified the number THEY HAD ORIGINALLY CALLED ME ON. (Please note that this took four separate phone calls so far...)

Phone call 5. March 10: I got a call back from the second number I had called (see #3 above) asking what I wanted. I indicated I wanted an MRI appointment, as my doctor had requested several weeks ago. The person said someone would call me to get all my information. I shared that mere weeks ago, I had been across the hall from the MRI department, in the CT department and that in fact I had provided all my information THREE WEEKS EARLIER for a similar procedure. Could they not access this information to expedite the process? No, I was informed. 

Phone call 6. March 17 (A WEEK LATER): I was called by someone who asked me a series of questions (all of which were the same as the CT scan questions I had already answered) and told I would be contacted by a scheduler to finally book the appointment. Oh and that I would need to get blood work done before the MRI, so I should find time to do that.

Phone call 7. March 20: I was called and told I would be going in for an MRI THE NEXT MORNING. 

I'm pretty sure there could be a few process efficiencies made to improve both the patient experience and the healthcare system workers' lives. For example, how about a single phone call to collect client history AND book the appointment? No? Is that just my half-German-ancestral-efficiency talking? I'm sure there is some very meaningful and well-negotiated division of duties between various unionized employees that must be maintained to ensure my patient experience is of the utmost quality and safety, but jeez Louise...SEVEN phone calls for one appointment? Honestly, after going through this (which I realize in the grand scheme of what's happening in the world is NOT AT ALL a big deal)....my sense that the rest of my procedure would go as planned was slightly less optimistic. If it takes seven phone calls to get a diagnostic appointment, how likely is it that all the right people will be in the room when it's time to cut my guts open? 

Anyway, it all worked out in the end. Rant over. 

Bonus: I discovered the Bair Hugger. If you are someone who is often cold and have not had this experience, I highly recommend it. I'm looking for a home edition. 

Thanks for your support and interest!

Jilly