The number was blocked. I answered it anyway.
"Hello. Is that Elizabeth?" A gentle female voice inquired.
"Yes" For 'twas I, (the hospital tend not to shorten my first name).
"Hello, my darling, I am calling from the hysteroscopy clinic and we are just looking through the appointments for next week and I saw you have an appointment on Wednesday. Did you know that, my love?"
"Yes. Absolutely. To get the coil removed." I confirmed eagerly, this was a good sign that they were on top of everything, I mistakenly thought.
"Well, unfortunately the coil hasn't been in long enough to do its job. It needs three months." She delivered a crushing blow.
"But? What? I mean, I know and next week is exactly three months. 12 weeks." I stumbled.
"No because you have the coil inserted on the 11 of September so you see it can't possibly be three months. October, November ..."
"When I booked the appointment we counted 12 weeks, three months, let me check. Wait, a minute, 11 of September? I'm sure I had it inserted in August. Let me find the date." I'm on the point of doing the unthinkable, opening my blog on a work computer just so I can double check the day.
"Really, my love? [pause] Oh! yes here it is. 11 August."
Relieved, "Yes, that's right."
"So it still isn't quite three months, sweetheart."
"We counted it out when I booked the appointment!" An edge of hysteria creeping into my voice.
"Let's see" she patronised, "one, two, three, four, five" I could hear her tapping the weeks on her calendar, "six, seven, eight, nine, ten, er ... eleven, oh! Twelve. Yes you're right. Oh well, that's fine. See you next week, my love."
Another appointment crisis. This time averted. Just.