worrying

I am prone to worrying. This can cause me great difficulty. Monday evening I had an appointment with my doctor. It was for my annual complete bloodwork test; ever since I had hepatitis ten years ago my doctor has been very vigilant, and once a year he tests me for everything imaginable. I worried about the results. Since starting the wellbutrin I have had a feeling of discomfort in my right side, the same area that was painful in the hepatitis period of my life. It took over a year for that feeling to go away, and here it is, back again. So I worried about my liver. I was also worried about some other things, with legitimate reason. These were things I am not comfortable describing in detail. I am, after all, a gay man in NYC who does not live the life of a choirboy.

So Wednesday evening was the time when when I was directed to call for the results, at 7:30. So I called at 7:30, and the doctor's assistant asked me to call back in one hour. Usually when I call the doctor relays the results to her, and she tells me, especially if he is very busy. So I worried even more; surely, if all was ok, she would tell me. This meant that the doctor needed to speak to me directly, and that meant that something was wrong. So for an hour I tried to keep busy. I cleaned. I did the laundry. I practiced. Then I called at 8:30. She asked me to wait on hold; a minute or two passed, and she told me that the doctor would be on the line shortly. My heart pounded and I felt freezing. My hands were shaking, that's how nervous I was. Then a few minutes later she got back on. "The doctor said to tell you that the test results were normal in every respect." I thanked her. Then I felt foolish for putting myself in such a state.