Anyway, since I have been declared clear of the yucky diseases all wannabe mums get tested for, the next step is blood tests. And this may sound very silly and wimpy, but I hate blood tests more than anything, even dental surgery. I am more frightened of being tied off like a junkie than I am of speaking in public, speaking in public in Polish, and sleeping overnight by myself on the floor of Stansted airport the night before speaking in public in Polish.
I usually weep, which is not very nice for whoever has to do the job, and I am afraid that if I get hysterical, they won't do the blood test at all. And poor B.A. is in charge at work tomorrow afternoon, and his mother is in Dundee, and I don't want to fall apart in front of a friend or make a friend come all the way from central Edinburgh just to watch me freak out for ten minutes. Thus, I am going in alone.
I know. It's a First World problem. And maybe if I had concentrated less on my "career" and more on getting married and having kids, blah blah blah blah blah. But, actually, the older I get, the more likely it is I will have to give blood anyway. The sooner I get over this irrational phobia, the better.
At this point, I think I need supernatural aid. Would readers remember to pray for me tomorrow at 2:20 PM (14:20) British Summer Time? This is 8:20 AM in Chicago and 9:20 AM in Boston and Toronto and 15:20 in Poland and Germany. That way when I am waiting in the hallway---and it is a nice hallway, really, newly painted white, with lots of natural light and fresh pinewood fittings--I can think of you who are already awake praying, and I will feel a lot better. I don't care if it hurts. (It will. My veins are small, and in the past they have always poked around trying to find a good one.) I just don't want to panic or cry.
I am sure it would be helpful. Thank you in advance.