4 more weeks

So this morning I had my doctor's appointment, finally. Both of my parents, although divorced, work for the same HMO, which I'll call Schmizer to avoid slander.

I was supposed to be seen at 9:15am. My Doctor, however, didn't make an appearance until 9:50. It's a mystery to me why the clinic staff choose to keep the f***in' place so damn cold, considering the place is full of sick people.

Anyway, I guess the nurse or receptionist took down my chief complaint as abdominal pain. So I had to explain, for the 3rd time, what my problems was. (First time, talking to the phone operator at Schmizer, 2nd time, talking to the R.N. at the call center who's in charge of making appointments, third time, actually talking to the doctor.) She ordered a blood test... and a CAT scan. She's going to call me in 3- 4 weeks with the results, or "the plan" or whatever.

Jesus Christ! 28 more days? What am I supposed to do until then? Keep still, not move my left arm, and try not to breathe too much. It's worse at night, I sleep for 3 or 4 hours at a time.

I guess that's it.

I left her office with almost 10 sheets of paper, and went to the lab. I was the only person in the waiting area who wasn't over the age of 65. They all looked at me like I was a felon, I guess cuz of the pink hair and the way I dress. When it was my turn, I climbed out of the chair, trying not to hurt myself.

Despite the numerous signs in the room that said "I love my phlebotomist", I must admit that I do not share that thought. Not at all. Even though I have piercings, it is NOT the same thing. Not remotely. Although she did have a really cool Russian accent.

The first time she stuck me was in my left arm. I was looking in the other direction, waiting for it to be over. After what seemed like an eternity, she said "Ok..... this isn't working here. We'll have to try again."

Shit.

So then she decided on my right hand and stuck me again. I was trying to crane my head as far as it would go in the opposite direction when she said to me "It's important that you keep breathing, dear."

30 seconds later: "Don't hold your breath, dear!" And then we were done. It occurs to me that probably everyone tries to flee the lab as fast as they can.

When I was a teenager, I was a candy striper at O'Connor Hospital. After almost nine years, I still remember where all the departments are. But this is Schmiser and I have no friggin' clue where to make my CAT scan appointment. The receptionist informed me that it was on the other side of the complex and that I might want to move my car.

There's nothing quite like feeling awful, not being able to take a normal breath, and feeling like you've been attacked by a porcupine, and trying to navigate your way through a traffic jam in the hospital parking lot. I actually ended up parking on the other side of this small embankment. After doing what I believe might just be the best parallel parking job ever, I climbed out of my car. The instant I hit the grass I instantly regretted not wearing my boots. Try not falling on your ass walking down a muddy hill when you've got a fever!!

My CAT scan is Friday at 1:30. I was really hoping I could keep it quiet. My dad is a hopeless hypochondriac. The chick behind the desk gave me these two huge containers of "banana smoothie" that I'm supposed to drink before hand. Fuck.

Maybe I'll just keep 'em in my room and pop them in the fridge late Thursday night.

Oh! I almost forgot that school starts tomorrow. Wednesdays are my "heavy class" day, too. (sigh)

~ exhausted Tragic