Let's start at the beginning. The doctorb (the "b" stands for bargain!) gave me my lab requisition form and said that I was due for my gestational diabetes (GD) screen and a syphilis test.
Apparently, in Alberta at least, they now test for syphilis in each trimester. As was explained to my young doctorb in med school, three rules apply when doctoring weemen:
- All women are pregnant until proven otherwise;
- I forget; and
- All women are liars.
There's obviously some kind of bitterness in this man's history, but the lesson stuck with my doctorb, so here we go.
I go home with the form, do the one-hour test (meh, not bad), and three days later, lo and behold, there's a message on my voicemail telling me that I need to come back in to see the doctorb. Bleah.
So, of course I'm a bit stressed, since they haven't said why.
"No worries," sez Chris. "It's for the best. And I'm sure it's just your sugar, like last time."
Um... let's see. The Best Case Scenario is that I have to fast for 12 hours, go in for the three-hour glucose tolerance test (heretofore referred to as the g-d GD test) (again, the last one was no fun), get stabbed and drained repeatedly, and end up bruised and bitter, only to find out that my glucose tolerance is just fine, and I've wasted half a day sitting still in an uncomfortable chair, hungry and thirsty and feeling my breath worsen and cavities form. And that's the Best Case Scenario.
Next best is actually being diagnosed with g-d GD, being forced to meet with a "dietician" again, being restricted from any and all forms of sugary deliciousness, having extra ultrasounds to make sure the 'lump is doing ok, pricking my finger several times a day to check my blood sugar levels, possibly injecting myself with insulin, and maybe even being induced early for the 'lump's well-being, who may or may not end up with blood sugar issues itself.
The Worst Case Scenario, of course, is Divorce, Due to Syphilis.
Anyhoo, I call the clinic back first thing the next morning, and ask what it's about.
"We can't tell you results over the phone," she said.
"Oh dear," I said. "It's that bad? I have syphilis?"
"Fine," she said. "It's your sugar."
SO, I booked Friday off for Laboratory Testing and Project Management coursework. I fasted (at 8:15 pm on Thursday night, I looked at the clock and realized that I had forgotten to binge on anything and everything in the kitchen...dammit), and showed up late to my 8 am appointment. (After all, you don't make a pregnant woman fast, then expect her to actually remember her lab req form that she laid out on the counter so she wouldn't forget it until she's at least halfway to the clinic, right?)
I drank my icky-sweet juice, I sat, I was poked and bled, I studied, and eventually got home, via McDonald's. Hey, it was past 11 am, and I was STARVING.
So far, no call from the doctorb. So, perhaps everything is just dandy, and it's the Best Case Scenario after all.