I went to the doctor today. As I walked in, checked in, was checked by the nurse, chatted with the nurse — as I did all these things — I perceived a knowing, pitying look in their eyes. Everything was so easy — the making of the appointment at the time I wished, the checking in, the checking of the blood pressure — that sinister-we’ve-been-expecting-you look haunted me at every handshake, signature, and smile.

I guess I’m getting paranoid.

Perhaps after spending the New Year’s festivities with my nose in a book trying to cram for the mastery of another language, the synapses in my brain were firing a little more slowly and the edges of my sanity was starting to fray.

I’ve had a few friends who informed me since I heard the news that it’s nothing new to get an “abnormal” result. Happens all the time. No Big Deal. But, other than my sister, who I discounted because she’s supposed to cheer me up — none of that information was shared with me until later than my appointment.

So, I walked into the doctor’s office trembling, with little reason to do so and …

the doctor had to look at the chart to remember why I was there.

Most likely nothing. Retest in three months. If one is normal and ten is cancer, you’d be at a two. Almost always this is nothing. Go home and write a blog post about how stupid you feel.

Here I am.

Funny how it worked out though. Paul came in with me — on pins and needles. Afterwards, we went out to Barney Prine’s for a beer to celebrate the good health that never left me.

Yesterday, I fretted about failing a test, losing my job, moving away to find work.

Today, I’m clinking glasses at the bar and laughing with my husband.

I read somewhere that skin doesn’t feel actual temperature — it only perceives changes. I think emotions are the same way. I guess that’s why you read in the papers about the highly successful business man who hung himself in the closet or the woman at the top of her professional career threw herself out the window after hearing some difficult news. The temperature change was too much. Though —  with their loss — they have far more than 99 per cent of the rest of the world’s population. The loss overshadows everything.

And maybe that’s why we’re encouraged to occupy the least position in the scripture verses, because we set ourselves up to be thankful all the time — such a person is truly happy — because if everyday, you remember that you’re a groveling worm, things can only get better.

It’s a richness that can’t be bought, if you don’t mind being a groveling worm every morning.

Yesterday, I was a big, fat failure. 

Today, I’m a big, fat failure with really great health. Hallelujah! Life is Good!

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