Scanned

Well, I had the ultrasound on the giblets today. I'm proud to say that I was calm, cool and collected. Well, except when driving to the clinic. I'm never calm cool, nor collected when I'm behind the wheel. Anyways, not a painful experience by any means.

However I have come to the conclusion that I will never, ever date someone in the health care industry for the simple reason that I could not handle that the person I'm with handles ... bits ... all day so nonchalantly. There's gotta be some mystery you know?

Speaking of which, the results go to my doctor in two to three business days. The Doc said they would call me if something shows up, so I'm going to jump out of my skin every time the phone rings. Which means once or twice in the next week. Of course it may be worse that they don't call if it's good news. I'll still be paranoid if I get a call a month from now.

It all kind of sucks though: I have the scuba lessons the weekend after next and I really want to use the training to go swimmin' with bow-legged wimmin somewhere down south. But it's the kind of situation where you can't really make any kind of long term plans. Cuz you never know. I've been reading up (gods bless the Internet) and if they find something, there a whole of laundry list of what that "something" could be. Most involve surgery. Which scares the hell out of me. Not because of the surgery itself, but I've been watching too much Scrubs lately and, well, I worry about mistakes. Like waking up and finding they took out my kidney .Although it wouldn't be as bad as the poor bastard who was supposed to get the kidney operation.

So I'm taking my usual "if it's the worst thing that can happen, it's already happened so there's nothing you can do about it" attitude with the occasional panic attack.

You know, the everyday routine mind-set of Moby.