Disclaimer: I’m doped up on codeine cough syrup and a cornucopia of other cold medicines as I write this.

This past Monday was going to be the longest of long days for me.  I had my appointment to take the MMPI (that psychological evaluation test) at 7 a.m.  and an appointment for a barrage of blood tests at the fertility clinic just after the exam at 11:15.  I had to work from 2 to 6:15, then rehearsal from 6:30 to 8ish.  Now, this may seem not quite so long at first, but keep in mind that I live 2 hours away from the clinic…much driving had to be done.

I had to wake up at 4 a.m. and leave by 5 a.m. to get to my MMPI on time.  Personally, I prefer not having to experience either 4 o’clock or 5 o’clock twice in one day.

Anyway, I had driven about 40 miles out and had between a half-tank and quarter-tank of gas left.  It was enough to get me to where I needed to be, but I thought, what the hell, might as well stop now and fill up.  It’s a good thing that I did, because that was when I realized that I had forgotten my wallet.

Yeah, I know.  Of all things to leave at home.  I was in quite a quandary–I would lose a whole hour if I drove all the way back home to get it, but I couldn’t drive all the way down without a license and then not have enough gas to make it back.  I tried calling the psychologist’s office and got a voicemail, which isn’t surprising, considering it was something like 5:30 in the morning.

Finally, I just said “F*** it” and started driving back home.  Actually, it wasn’t really driving.  It was more like flying low.  I was just about to hit the sound barrier when I realized that it was the ultimate in stupidity to be speeding and driving recklessly and also not carrying a license.  So I slowed down and made up for it by cursing myself the whole way home.

By the time I got home, it was definitely way too late to turn around and make it in time.  I called the office again and let them know that I definitely could not make it to the test, which ended up being alright.  The psychologist was very understanding and just rescheduled me for next Monday.  Now that the appointment was canceled, I actually got a chance to get two more hours of sleep.  I really needed it–been fighting off a nasty cold since Friday.

When I woke up, I went out to kill some time waiting til I could leave for my 11:15 appointment.  And that time was killed in an awesome way: eating a McGriddle.

Snapped this one in the McDonald's parking lot.  Betcha didn't think I could tan that well.

Snapped this one in the McDonald's parking lot. Betcha didn't think I could tan that well.

I don’t know what it is about me and having to eat horrible food whenever I’m about to partake in any egg donor-related activities.  I really don’t eat Zingers and McGriddles in my normal life.  Although, if there were no health consequences, I probably would.  I’ve loved McGriddles since they were first introduced.  As I sat and jammed on it in the McDonald’s parking lot, I found myself in awe over how the egg just did not look like any egg at all–at least, no egg from this world.  But I loved every bite of it.

Fast forward two hours of driving, and I’m at the fertility clinic fifteen minutes early.  When I set up this appointment, they assured me that they would have me in and out in a half hour, leaving me plenty of time to drive back and make it to work on time.  They ended up admitting me half an hour later than my appointment time, which got me a little miffed.  However, they did try to accomodate me and speed up the process.  Although that’s quite nice of them, I realized later that having your blood drawn and a physical examination at twice the speed is a little frightening.

I’m also proud to say that I lived through my very first person-awkwardly-standing-in-the-bathroom-with-you-while-you-pee drug test.  And if you think it’s hard having to pee in front of a short Asian lady a foot away from you, add the fact that you’re being rushed along to speed things up.  Makes it nigh impossible.

After taking away all of my urine and blood, I was whisked away to the physical exam, where I got to re-acquaint myself with the stick blender.  Fortunately, the doctor this time was much gentler and actually explained what she was doing as she went along.  All said and done, my lady parts are still lookin’ good and feelin’ great.

I did end up being ten minutes late to work, but fortunately my boss seemed pretty understanding.  However, by this point in the day I had almost completely lost my voice.  When I answered the phone at work, somebody called me “sir.”  Seriously.  I sounded like a pubescent teenage boy, but considering that I was in a comic shop, I guess I didn’t sound that out of place.

So the next thing on my plate is getting that MMPI done, getting the results back from all those tests, and going in to learn how to give myself injections (super excited).  I was going to leave a link to the McGriddle’s wiki page, but I’ve found something better.  McGriddle fan fiction.  I’m so glad the internet exists.

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