Still no word from Dr. GPO. Whenever a doctor takes a while to get back to me with test results, I begin to imagine that the news is so horrible that he just can't bring himself to tell me. After a while, it becomes a dramatic scene from a black-and-white 1940s movie starring Jimmy Stewart as my doctor and Maureen O'Hara as his beautiful but tough-as-nails nurse.
DOCTOR: I can't bring myself to tell that poor sweet kid that she is dying! I just can't do it, I tell you! I can't! I can't! (Begins angrily smashing test tubes)
NURSE: But Frank, you have to tell her. If you don't, then you're ... you're just not the man I thought you were ... (dramatic pause) ... and I could never marry you.
DOCTOR: What are you saying, Vivian?
NURSE: I've always loved you, Frank.
DOCTOR: I've always loved you, Vivian!
(The music swells. They kiss. THE END)
Wow, I am so happy that they finally got together, but this doesn't get my test results back any faster. And my doctor isn't even named Frank.
At least we still have jellybeans left. They're mostly green ones, though.