Iodine in your veins makes your nether regions really warm, in case you wanted to know. I was told this could happen but it was still awfully jarring, as though I'd just wet my pants during my CT Scan. (I'm sure there's a fetish for that.)
I wasn't sure I wanted Logan to come with me because I wasn't sure what would happen at this appointment. Would they, like they did at my follow up mammogram, look over the data and tell me, "Surprise! You've got a cat in your lung!" on the spot. And if they were going to tell me news on the spot, and the news was unpleasant I didn't really want to be there alone.
But alas, there was no news, only an assurance that my doctor would have a report in 3-5 business days. To which I say, "Bull Shit."
Instead I asked Logan to take the morning off of work to sit in a waiting room for 10 minutes while I laid on a table wondering if I'd wet my pants.
Logan deals with these things, these little moments of health scares in our family, with a lot of grace. I give him credit for that because I can't imagine I'd feel very good if he paniced and I couldn't devote all my energy to worrying.
On the other hand when he says patly, "Everything is fine."
I can't help but feel he doesn't fully embrace the power of worry. He doesn't know everything is fine and yet he claims it as truth. I feel this is begging the universe to clobber us over the head and still, he won't worry or even slightly fret.
I'd even give him a pass if he wasn't worrying because of some supernatural ability to see the future or even just a gut instinct. Instead he bases his total lack of worry on one simple fact. He doesn't want anything bad to happen so he simply believes it won't.
I know. I know I should just leave because he's fallen off the deep end. Unfortunately he's really good in bed, so I'm kind of stuck with him.
Luckily there's a bunch of you guys out there fretting. Some people turn to prayer but I like that you're worried so that when the results come in and it turns out I aspirated some Magnetix pieces I can feel like a real asshole putting you all through this kind of stupidity.
And Man! Some of you guys are really fucking good at worrying. Some of the possibilities you've dug up around the internet are just so awful. So heart stoppingly awful, you've really got me almost convinced the next time I cough my whole body is going to spontaneously combust. This is the kind of worrying I can get behind.
Yesterday I ran around after the appointment getting last minute stuff ready for Maddie's class camping trip. Then I did a lot of laundry and finally went to hang out with my two best girlfriends and a bottle of prosecco. I felt mildly exhausted and a little distracted yesterday but quite honestly each minute that goes by without a call from the Doctor makes me feel a little safer.
A little more like my luck isn't running out quite yet.
But then that's sort of a slap in the face to my theory of worry. So today I've spent the day in bed covered in a rash over most of my upper body, what appears to be an iodine allergic reaction. The phone is right in my lap and I'm not sure if I should be happy it hasn't rang, it seems like if the spots in my lungs were something terrible I would have heard by now.
Or if I should be terribly worried something fantastical is happening and the doctors can't even identify it yet.
Like my transformation to Mermaid Lady has begun.
Don't get me wrong that sounds fantastic, I just don't know how we're going to afford a salt water pool in the basement. I guess I'll worry about that for a while.