There really are good people left?

I am very good about going to the doctor, seeing the dentist etc. Living with anxiety has made me a bit of a hypochondriac so I do what I can to prevent death from happening sooner rather than later.

In preparation for my check up next week, I had to do my blood work and EKG. The lab was ridiculously busy so I was warned in advance that the wait would be at least an hour. No biggie except that my little one needed to be picked up from heritage language class at noon and I got to the lab just before 11. I decided to take my chances. I came prepared with my book club selection that I can hardly bear to read.

On a side note, I’m reading The Remains of the Day. Everyone who sees me reading it feels the need to tell me what a great novel it is. I’m about 30 pages in and I cannot share that opinion – yet. I’m giving it a chance.

So there I was reading and watching the clock. One older woman complained that she could not hear the lab technician calling out names. When the tech heard this, she explained that she would not raise her voice any more than it had already been raised. So I had very little hope for leniency and understanding when 11:40 came around.

I approached the counter and explained to the woman that I needed to pick my daughter up from school at noon and I needed my health card and requisition form back. Because it had already been processed and I was simply waiting for my turn, she asked if my daughter’s school was far and if I could be back by 12:15?

I just about fell over. I assured her that I could get back in time.

Things like this never happen to me.

Miracle #1

I picked up my daughter, made it to the lab, got my blood drawn, heart checked and I even peed in the cup.

So what was miracle #2?

I rarely carry a purse and when I do, it serves the purpose of a junk drawer. Receipts, wrappers, uneaten snacks I pack for my kids that they don’t eat, toys my youngest one doesn’t leave home without and promises she will carry — all these things end up in my ‘purse’. As a result, it ends up weighing a ton and when I hear my cell phone ringing I can’t even find the fucking thing. So, most days, I carry a pouch with the bare necessities. My driver’s license, bank card, credit cards and gift cards are in there. That’s it.

So I’m lying there with stickers and electrodes and it hits me that I don’t have my pouch with me. Awesome. Just what I need to be thinking when I’m supposed to be calm. My heart rate probably spiked so now my reading will be inaccurate and whoever has to analyze the results will think I have an arrhythmia. I probably left it in the car I thought. Impossible. I had to get my health card back so I had it in the waiting room. Well, shit. It’s gone then. I was mentally running through the numbers I would have to call to cancel the certain theft of my identify when the tech finished (she was super nice) and I could get dressed and out of there.

Here’s where the miracle happened. Sitting on the chair I was waiting in, was my pouch. It was in plain view. There for the taking. But everyone let it be. My cards were in there and everything.

It’s unfortunate that we have learned to expect the worst from people.