Here we are in Rochester. We got here last night. WCB handled the car ride very well. Cancer Girl did not.
Anyone who knows me knows about my infamous trouble with motion sickness. I don't go on amusement park rides. I don't even like to look at amusement park rides. I won't set one toe on an airplane unless I've been severely drugged up with Dramamine since at least one hour prior to driving to the airport. On our honeymoon eight years ago, Jay dragged me onto the "Star Tours" Star Wars ride at Disney World. As I was being tossed around a galaxy far, far away, I wondered how hard it would be, really, to get the marriage annulled. I spent a good 30 minutes sitting on the floor of the Endor Vendor gift shop, whimpering that I needed a Sprite. Jay later bought me a Peter Ellenshaw Winnie-the-Pooh print, which hangs in our dining room to this day, a grim reminder of what happens when you do not heed Your Wife's Motion Sickness Warning.
So. Anyway. After a full day of riding in the back seat to keep WCB occupied (We did make one stop in Ames, IA to see my sister, brother-in-law, and niece: WCB, Under-One-Year Category), I was a little green by the time we reached Rochester. I opened the car door and, um, decorated the hotel parking lot with my lunch.
Yeah. Gross. I'm feeling much better now. But gross. Let's move on.
It's a beautiful day in Rochester. This morning, Jay, the big pee jug, and I walked outdoors from the hotel to the Hilton Building (Desk C- The most happenin' desk in all of the Mayo Clinic) for my blood draw. Right before I got to the blood check-in desk, I ran into my sister's friend Marla from high school. It's a small world.*
So now the blood people have my blood, and the pee people have my pee, and we just wait around until 3 p.m. to see the doctor. An update will follow.
*That's the one amusement park ride I can tolerate. Unfortunately, nobody else can.