Last Wednesday was October 1st, the date was circled in my agenda. After October 1stI was allowed to call the hospital to ask where I was on the waiting list to get treated for the insulin allergy. This was as exams were coming up and I wanted to know if precautions needed to be taken, and mostly to not drive myself insane by deciding every day if I should call or not.

Thursday October 2ndthe call was made, as the boyfriend was home that day. My expectations were that I would be either really happy and want to share that with him, or slightly disappointed and then it would also be better to not be home alone.

In the morning I made the call filled with hope (and some anxiety). I called the dermatology unit and asked for the insulin allergy section. They told me to call back at 11.30 a.m. *Sigh* What to do for the next two hours?

11.30 a.m. It is time. My stomach clenches. Again I turn out not to have the right person, this number was only to make appointments for diagnostic tests for insulin allergy. I received yet another number which I could call. Taking a deep breath I heard the phone ringing. Finally! This was the right number and I was speaking to a person who could help me out. Below an excerpt from the conversation:

Assistant: “What was your name again? Oh wait, I think I see your name already.”

Would I have climbed on the list if she sees my name that quickly?

Assistant: “Your place on the list is number 11.”


Me: “Oh………….”

Hope disappeared and my heart felt broken. Number 11, I could have sworn I was tenth, but according to the boyfriend I was also 11thlast time. Two months ago I had a check-up via the phone where they could tell me what spot I was on the list. Two months passed and I hadn’t moved. How I coped with that? Not very well. The rest of the day I felt like a zombie. Most things passed me entirely. The only thing that kept going through my head was “Two months… how long will it take before I can ever be treated…. Two months….”.

My hope to be treated before the new year was washed down the drain, my hope that it would soon be over, that everything would be okay, every last bit of hope melted like snow in the sun. My head keeps thinking: at least it isn’t a waiting list for an organ, you don’t have to wait in a hospital bed until someone else passes away so you can survive, you’re still able to live. But my heart feels broken, even whilst writing this blog, despite a couple of days having passed, I feel beaten down and can barely find the words to write this post……..