So, I have this fear. I fear getting a call from my doctor. It's not a crippling fear, but it's still there, bubbling up from my subconscious, and since I haven't set up my voicemail on my cell phone yet (that's a story for a different blogpost, also involving fear) the fact that my doctor's office called twice and I missed it both times had me... I was going to say concerned, but let's face it, I was mildly wibbling and starting to freak.
It's not like this fear is unjustified, you understand. The first time I got a call from my doctor, I had gone in because I hadn't been feeling all that great - just a general malaise, lack of energy, whatever... oh, and I was constantly thirsty. By the time I got home from the appointment, there was a message from my doctor to call them back immediately (I think they thought that I was driving - fortunately, I'd taken the bus.) See, normal blood sugar is between 80 and 120 - mine was north of 500 at the time. So... that's how I found out that I was diabetic.
The second time... well, the second time was when Hank entered my life. On Monday, my uterus suddenly exploded (well, not really... but I was bleeding out blood clots the size of a dinner plate approximately every 15 minutes or so until they finally did a emergency D&C the next afternoon - I ended up needing three pints of blood, and I was still a little woozy.) They thought it was due to fibroids and took a sample, and sent me home the next day, and I thought I was fine - until my doctor called. On a Saturday. It's never good news when the actual doctor calls, especially on a Saturday. So... that's when I found out that I had cancer.
See, there's a reason to fear the phone call. But I'd forgotten the Utah caring factor. This call, it turns out, was just to let me know that my lab results from Tuesday were back, and that, while I still have the Vitamin D levels of your average vampire and that he wanted to consult with my cancer doctor about some other levels, on average, I'm pretty healthy. You know, I'll take that.
