Due to a misunderstanding at my new doctor's, I was scheduled to get a bone marrow biopsy next week. Only, next week's appointment was scheduled for my 35th birthday. Now, I've been really good about being Miss Positive and Can-Do about all of my health sh*t these past few months, but the thought of having this:
rammed into my hip bone to gouge out some marrow on my freakin' birthday was just the absolute non-starter of the year.
So. The good news: the appointment has been changed.
The bad news: it's been changed to THIS Friday. (I had been lobbying for "sometime in April.")
Niiice. The unfortunate part of the bone marrow procedure (what comedian was it who said that you know you've hit a certain age when you start having "procedures"?) is that they can't knock you out for it. Some bullcookies about the anesthesia being more dangerous than the ice pick itself. My personal theory is that there are a bunch of risk-averse anesthesiologists out there in serious need of a bone marrow biopsy. Or three.
So. Friday it is. Sedationless it is. Look for the sob story on Saturday when I get back home. It's not my first "BMBX" as they like to call it, but it's at a new place with a new doctor. Anticipating whether it will be the "short and make-you-cry-like-a-baby incredibly painful" or "longer duration but just your average ice-pick-into-your-bone painful" is like anticipating sex with a stranger. He seems nice, but does that translate into nice in bed? Is he a giver or is he all about himself? You're hoping for a not-totally-clueless skill set, but also not so-confident-in-his-abilities that he has no clue he's terrible. And you can't really ask ahead of time; it ruins the surprise. So you just go into it, pray to god you don't completely embarrass yourself, and hope for the best.
On that note, I wonder what age it says you are when you start comparing "procedures" to sex...