It Doesn't Matter
I called the doctor on the test results and was told the lab had screwed up and done the wrong test. Wonderful. I will pick up the new form tomorrow morning at the doctor's office, immediately drive over to the hospital lab, have the blood drawn and know what is what by Friday. These things go quickly when they go. A biopsy, and, if it's positive, surgery soon after. Get it before it gets you. Unpleasant operation, even more unpleasant recovery, but given the alternative, nothing to think about. Buckle down, grimace and go. Not sure how I'm going to take care of myself when I get home, but there's pizza delivery and I can fill the refrigerator with stuff. I hope this test is negative, but hoping, you know, well, hoping is just hoping. I'm going up for the family reunion on the train next Thursday, a five day weekend, home the Tuesday following. I assume I'm going. Who knows?
I got in this evening at 9:30. I haven't talked about the office recently and the continuing tale of crappy decisions that most of us here in the trenches have felt would eventually bring our systems down. Today, the new Microsoft Exchange email system was down for 24 hours. A second major outage. I stayed at the office tonight ready to post last minute instructions to the web. "Bend over and grab your collective asses, lads and lassies, IT has fucked up". Nobody's happy at the moment. Nobody's going to be happy tomorrow. A multi-billion dollar company and they allow this to happen. Mumble.
Anything else I can bitch about? I don't believe I have ever had a blood test screwed up in all my years of being tested. I had ten or twelve years of blood tests trying to determine why my insides were bleeding at odd moments, ten or twelve years of blood tests, ten or twelve years of testing without a hitch. I grade these guys when they've finished with their needles. I'm a fucking needle connoisseur. "Not bad. Could be better. Bad entry. Good entry. You missed the vein, you low rent son-of-a-bitch!." No, you don't say that. For the same reason you don't hassle a waiter and send back a dish. They'll spit in the soup. The one lone test that has really gotten my attention, this one, goes awry. Or awrong. Hard to tell anymore.
It's late. I should probably wait and rewrite this tomorrow, but then, what the hell, I guess it doesn't matter.