Just back from my endo appointment. I very much like my doc, very personably, and never seems in a rush. She always seems as concerned with my mental health as well as my physical, which I appreciated.
Anyway, she said she'd like to bump my Estradiol another level, but ordered a complete blood panel first. Said once she gets the results she'll call it in. She also was pleased with the existence of breast tissue, and said that because of the history of breast cancer with my mom, at some point she's going to order a mammogram — since I'm at risk due to family history and estrogen is an additional risk factor.
So all good.
But then came the part of the appointment/morning for which I'd like some feedback.
Since I hadn't eaten breakfast, she said I could go directly to the lab and get the blood work taken care of there and then (FYI - I seldom eat breakfast anymore, but make a point to NEVER eat on days of morning doc appointments, just for this situation).
But the thing is, as much as I was patting myself on the back for the no-breakfast thing, I had not really thought out doing labs this morning at all. I got to the lab and realized what I was wearing. This new pair of Lands Ends women's grey cords (so comfy!) and a plum mock turtleneck.
A mock turtleneck is no bueno for lab work. Rolling up the sleeve of a mock will damage the elasticity of the sleeve and it NEVER sits right on your wrist after that. You always can tell that was the sleeve you had to roll up past your elbow. And it eats at your soul.
So I was literally standing in middle of the lab for at least a minute, with all this going through my head, the lab request sheet in my hand, the other patients seated and staring at me, and the nurse at the desk staring at me... when I finally said (outloud - accidentally!) "Nope" and turned and walked out.
I decided the integrity of my shirt was worth more that the convenience of getting it over in one trip. So, yes, I will be forced to make a second trip to the hospital tomorrow morning, but my shirt will remain intact.
Be honest, I can take it: on a scale of 9-10, exactly how crazy am I?
Love,
Allie