Insert Malady Here

When I awoke this morning, I was already waiting for 1:00pm. This was the magic hour when I would receive the results of an endometrial biopsy. Wait I did.

Through office-hour conversations with students about the dueling "unruly mobs" in Fritz Lang's M.

Through chit-chat with the administrative staff and exchanging one-liners with my favorite advisor. Wait I did, by God. And then 1:00pm came.

My fingers trembled as I dialed the number of the Health Center and they continued trembling as I heard Cheryl say that the nurse I needed to talk to had just gone back with a patient. "Okay," I said, "just let her know I'm wanting my test results. I'll wait at this number until she calls me back."

Wait, just wait. Wait to find out that something is out of synch. Wait to find out that there's nothing whatsoever awry. Wait to find out that I have cancer. Or worse, wait and see another doctor or two or three or five.

Fifteen minutes later, I gave it another try. This time Cheryl says, "She wanted me to tell you to come in and talk to the doctor." The phrase, come in and talk to the doctor, was pre-established code for shit ain't lookin' right. The doctor, nurse, and I had agreed on the code the day I had the biopsy.

By 4:00pm this afternoon, I was sitting in the waiting room. Waiting. Until 5:00. And then, I got the news. Something is causing me to bleed into my uterine cavity. Apparently, this is some cause for concern. So much so that I get to wait until the morning to call 4 different doctors and schedule a hysteroscopy, a DNC, and ultimately a hysterectomy.

Bring it on.