*and other random sounds of fear and discomfort*
I have a doctor's appointment today. It's just a general physical I have to go through to be able to get referrals to specialists and whatnot through the effed-up Navy system. It doesn't matter, though. You could tell me the doctor was just going to pat me on the head and ask me if I have a tummy-ache, and I WOULD STILL BE TERRIFIED.
I hate doctors. They always have cold hands, and no matter what you're telling them, they look so damn serious. I know it's the worst possible choice you could make, but I always want to keep secrets from them, because I'm afraid anything I say can and will be used against me in the diagnosis of disease. (As in, I will be diagnosed with many.) Plus I'm a hypochondriac and an anxious, paranoid type of person.
I just worry that I'm going to come away from this "general physical" finding out I have cancer or diabetes or something equally awful. (Or that they'll suck out all my blood. And they'll let an inexpert nurse do it.) And it's making me incredibly jittery.
I probably shouldn't have been drinking all that coffee this morning. It's really not helping.
In other news, still not writing. Been preoccupied with the upcoming doctor's appointment and the fact that my writing brain seems tongue-tied. (They're weak excuses, but they're the only ones I've got.)
In other, other news, I am in serious Euro-metal jam mode lately. It's usually a good thing, as it signals a wish for creative music and is followed by a desire for creative writing. Hopefully it works...
In yet further news...
Nope. That was it.
Nothing further, I guess.