A day at the docs

When I arrived at the doctor's offices today on his strict doctors orders to return for a check-up, I was fully expecting him to give me the "all clear" thumbs up and tell me I am as fit as a fat fiddle and to return to work. Even though I still feel as rotten as a cracked egg. Which would be a bit of a weird coincidence considering the state of my reproductive um, thingies. But when I walked into the consulting room feeling very much like a droopy daffodil he took one look at me and said, "Woah there, girly" (girly! see why he's my new fave person on planet Earth?!?) "you're looking decidedly worse for wear!" Rat-tap-tap on shin bones, some stethoscope probing, examining my armslegsbackneckandchest for insect bites, breathe-in-deeply's and a gazillion questions later, he stood back, cocked his head and said gravely, "Char, I think we need to do some blood tests and send you for chest x-rays." DING DING DING! (That's the warning bells ringing in my head, by the way... just in case you were wondering.) I would be lying if the first thing that ran through my head wasn't 'Woot woot! Maybe a few extra days off from work!' But alas, yes, I am that lazy sick. Doctor found a few funny blotches on lungs, which he eventually came to the very disappointing conclusion were "only a discomforting case of Bronchitus" ! I mean, have you ever had a more boring diagnosis? And there I was feeling so rotten with the flu... at least he could have said it was something extravagantly exotic... like, say, oxymonocanthus-longirostrus (which, by the way, is actually the scientific name for a marine fish. I know. I'm weird like that...) or even something slightly more dangerous, like, um, pneumonia. Not that I would wish pneumonia on myself or anything. It just sounded so dreadfully disappointing - every second person gets diagnosed with bronchitus. And like I was making up feeling so sick all the time. Let's hope the blood tests show up something more exciting-sounding. But only if there is something to show up, of course. Nothing deadly or anything weird like that. Just something that would warrant me having stayed home for so long already. Otherwise, I could just as well change my name to Hypo. Surname: Chondriac. The other possibility would be that I am actually pregnant. Which, of course, we all know is totally preposterous. I told the doctor so too. He kept saying "are you SURE you're not pregnant?" and I kept saying, "yes sirreeee..." until he said, "Well, how can you be so sure?" Short medical history later, he also assumed the 'Well, I Guess We Can Rule Out Pregnancy Too Then' look. Me thinks changing my name to Mrs H. Chondriac is more realistic. And definitely nicer sounding than Mrs Desperately Wishing For A Baby!