Laboratory

Funny. Nobody seems especially interested in assisting a woman on the brink of death today. I began to suspect I had a kidney infection as I began spiking a fever today and developing sweats. I called my gynecologist's office, and the nurse said that nobody could see me but that I was welcome to visit the hospital laboratory to drop off a urinalysis. She then informed me that it would take up to 72 hours for the results. Frustrated, I called the clinic where my primary care provider is located. I normally avoid that place like the plague, as it is my old place of employment. They said they would be happy to see me on Monday. As I have felt like Gravy Train for nearly a week now, I felt my emotions began to seep to the surface, voiced a brisk thanks but no thanks, and hung up the phone. My next option would be sitting in our urgent care center with Erik. The last time I did this, it took a full four hours to be seen. Desperate, I loaded Erik into the car and we visited the hospital laboratory, where my anger was quickly extinguished by the surprisingly delightful, helpful women at the desk who seemed to fall in love with Erik, gave him stickers, and actually cared about my plight. Erik and I retired to the laboratory lavatory, and I completed my urinalysis. He was such a patient little guy through all of it, and I felt so bad for boring him to tears all week thus far that when we arrived home I slathered him in sunscreen and let him push his dump truck around the property for a half an hour. There was no work for me to do today, so I relaxed on the porch.

It's weird, but I actually feel better. Maybe the Tylenol is kicking in. I suppose it will be nice to know my guts aren't frying, too. Just a mere 72 hours until I find out. I might as well be in a covered wagon on the Oregon Trail with this kind of health care at my disposal.