yup, you guessed it

-would you believe we're still waiting for the now group of doctors to, at the very least, find out whether or not the cancer is treatable? And mom is wasting away, unable to eat, getting more alarmingly yellow day by day.
I'm not even angry that she has cancer. I'm angry that I live in a world where it's necessary to be a squeaky wheel just to get attention that every person alive should be able to take for granted.
She fell down the other day as she was getting out of the shower.
She's not even strong enough to climb stairs without taking a break ON EVERY STEP.
She wrote a grocery list for me and her normally perfect writing was illegible when it wasn't scratched out, scribbled. Shaky. Her attempt at drawing a simple smiley face at the end was heartbreaking. It took her two tries.
You've got to realize that this is a woman who raised three children on her own at a time when that was frowned upon. She was a volunteer fire fighter while she was pregnant. She drove taxi in the 60s. In Seattle. At night. She worked at the post office for more than 30 years and didn't shoot anyone. She's fucking Superwoman for god's sake.
This doesn't happen to Superwoman.

...Wating...

Waiting.
Waiting waiting waiting waiting. And then some more. Also, there's waiting, in case I failed to mention it. Waiting.
Look, I don't care who else you're treating/helping/saving/bandaging/medicating/killing with kindness/preforming surgery on/putting an i.v. in/giving staff infections to/breathing horrid breath on/sedating/draining of precious fluids/or euthanizing. She has limited time left on this planet and it's fucking killing me that she's spending it waiting for you to let her know lab results! FUCKING GET ON THE FUCKING JOB, PEOPLE!!!