I stopped at Qwest to "drop off" my little brown jug of ick on the way to work this morning. Why the quotes? The doctor said "just drop it off at the lab." The box on the instruction sheet that said "if this box is checked you must have a blood sample drawn" was not checked. The lab paperwork however, called for a blood draw and I hadn’t left time for it. They were very nice though, and jumped me to the front of the line so that I could get to work. As aggravating as it is to have to have this stuff done at Qwest and not at UConn, I have to say that everyone there has been lovely and very helpful.
I’m apprehensive about tomorrow. I’m worried that it’s going to hurt terribly (I know, get used to it now,) and I’m worried about the risk associated. I want the diagnostic testing – I have no doubts about that. It’s very true that if something goes wrong we can just start over. But nonetheless – who wants to? On the other hand, I’ll be excited to see the pictures. Hopefully, we’ll get to keep the thing we’re taking the pictures of. If we get past this, we can start talking about shit like names, furniture, daycare, etc. AND I can tell my mother.
I’m just kind of down about it all today. I’ve accepted the risks of the test, but that’s all intellectual. I think I’m in a good place emotionally if things go wrong, or at least as good as I can be. What’s got me down is that once the decision has been made to go ahead, it’s one of two outcomes and there is nothing I can do to control which one. That’s the part that’s got me down. Typical control freak stuff.