OK, I’m going to do this post in charming vaginal pink to  augment the atmosphere. In approximately 12 hours I’m going for my first gynocological exam in nine years and going to have a fasting blood letting too. Yay. Can’t wait. I wouldn’t do it, but I don’t want to make this good doctor’s office angry since they did sign my “don’t make me homeless, please” form. When they asked me when I’d like to schedule this, I replied “Preferably the 12th of never.”

Seriously though, I don’t want to do this. If I’m dying of cancer, AIDS, diabetes, the ice bucket disease, etc., I DON’T WANNA KNOW. If my cholesteral is 60k and I’m three heartbeats from knocking on heaven’s door, I wish to die in ignorant bliss, thank you.

My social worker offered to go with me, but I think she forgot, and every time I thought about calling and reminding her,  I thought, “Do I really want my social worker staring me down with my birth canal in the air?” So I’m going solo I guess.  If I can’t take it, I’m an adult. I can just break into tears and run away. Besides it’s September. Bad things happen in September, right Mom? Right, Ex-roomie? Ack, I’m gonna die!

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