yarr. doctor.

as those of you who have been paying attention can attest, it takes only marginally less than an act of god to make me drag my ass to the doctor. this is largely because there is little that makes me feel so frightened and so lost as sitting on that examining table.

i got lost today.

i think it's a doctoral conspiracy that they leave you sitting on the examining table for ages, half naked and nervous, before they see you. by the time the doctor saw me today, i was a shaky little kitten. all i wanted was to leave that tiny, sterile room with its angry red biological wastebasket and dim fluorescent lighting. though my doctor and her staff are all charming and competent, it's still not my choice of activity. and while i'm not emotionally scarred or anything...there's something about going in to get a course of antibiotics and coming out with a barrage of unexpected and unpleasant tests under your belt.

i have a hole in my arm, and have been indelicately prodded. neither were anticipated. but then, i suppose that's okay. mild hysteria aside, i probably would have taken forever to get them done voluntarily. and at least now, in one week, i'll know my official relationship to the acronym that scares me the most (irrationally) and various and asundry other things, including why the hell i've had three bouts of the bringer of orange. that's just not right.