Mammogram day. Good times. I know that they won't actually be able to tell me anything today, since I'm just getting the screening done and then it goes to my doctor, but I am an instant gratification person and would like to know immediately if there is something amiss with the boob. But alas! They will not cater to my need for knowing RIGHT NOW. Even though I'm going to pay them a lot of money, they still won't tell me right then and there. Medical shit is so rude sometimes. If I'm going to give you my credit card and you're going to perform a service, the least you could do is tell me right then if there's something horribly wrong. Geez. General consensus is that it's nothing and I am over reacting and to just chill the fuck out. But that's really not my forte. I am a champion worrier and so you know, this thing is all up in my wheel house. (wheelhouse? one word? two? don't care!) I have moments where I talk to myself and give myself stern lectures about how worrying doesn't actually accomplish anything and that it's wasted energy and blah blah blah. I can tune myself out like a teenager tunes out her parents.
My husband is not worried. So I take his lack of worry as lack of care about me in general. Which I know is kinda dumb, but still. I want him to worry a little with me. But he refuses. Jerk. I actually told him last night that the fact that he's not worried even a little makes me feel like he doesn't care about me and he said nothing could be farther from the truth. He just didn't see any benefit in worrying about something that doesn't even actually exist and that if there is something wrong we will deal with it together. I think that's what I wanted to hear more than anything really. I know he cares, if he didn't care I wouldn't have married him. Dur.
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