The countdown begins: I have my Big Bad Blood Test with Dr. Great and Powerful Oz two weeks from today. Argh. After a lovely three-month hiatus from doctor visits, I hate the idea of going back to being poked and prodded, back to sitting in depressing waiting rooms and reading about the adventures of TomKat in month-old issues of People, back to worrying about potentially scary test results.
Not to mention the fact that they could drag out the giant urine jug again. Oh, lordy, no!
But I'm sure everything will be fine. I'm sure Dr. GPO will discover that Godcella is still hibernating, all curled up in some flannel pajamas and a silky sleep mask, just snoring away. Nothing to fear, nothing to fear.
And if Godcella has suddenly decided to start stomping around and breathing fire on my bone marrow? Well, then, we'll just go in and get him. We'll take him out. He won't stand a chance. Watch out, Godcella. I am Inigo Montoya, and you are the six-fingered man.
Hello, my name is Karen. You killed my bone marrow. Prepare to die.
Nothing to fear, nothing to fear.