04.11.07 :: 9:21 am

and you know, of course the technician couldn't tell me what she saw on the sonogram because she's not allowed and i'm panicked and lubed and alone and thinking the worst, of course, like ovaries crammed with tumors and a crumbling uterus...

and so of course i start spontaneously crying all over the place.

and so of course there's really nothing the tecnhnician can say to me without breaking some kind of law or whatever except for "Just wait until your doctor calls you, it should only be a couple of days."

And so she must think I'm like a total spaztronaut and while i'm lamenting my seemingly arbitrary and cruel reproductive misfortunes while mopping my face and my privates up, i overhear her in the hallway with some other technicians talking about tom cruise of course because it's just her job to take pictures of women's insides and she has interests and a life and likes to gossip and she can't be bothered by some emotional mess

god what am i even rambling about
i have no idea
i'm just STRESSED OUT, people, I have REACHED MY LIMIT

and yes. i know. "First World problems" but they're mine nonetheless, and i've got to deal with them.

Don't even get me started on Aussie Bossy today. I'm ten seconds away from violence.


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