Calling the doctor’s office yesterday did little to stop the growth of either my cyst or my anxiety, both of which have grown to alarming sizes. She can’t fit me in until next Wednesday, by which time I am quite certain the damn thing will have ruptured – it’s very painful and scary and nothing about the word “rupture” makes me feel any good at all. The only advice I was given was to “go to the hospital if things get any worse”, which doesn’t really help me because I have a difficult time talking myself into going to the emergency room for anything less than a severed limb.

Unfortunately, I’m almost at that point. I’m pretty freaked out by the size and soreness of cyst 7.0, and I’m feeling queasy and horrible which is undoubtedly caused by the deadly toxins swimming through my bloodstream courtesy of my vagina. I’ve all but made up my mind to go to the hospital, even if typing it out is making me change my mind.

There’s a catch, though.

I have to go to Richmond again. Not just for a run of the mill warehouse visit, mind you – I’m giving the Lab’s executives a tour of the operations I’ve set up. We hired a new VP who is essentially my boss, and we’re going to take a look at what I’ve spent the last several months of my life doing. No pressure or anything, but it’s a friggin’ Executive Field Trip of which I am the unwilling star.

So, I can’t go to the hospital or even a walk-in clinic should I chicken out of the actual ER because I have to go to a warehouse and show my boss and his boss and probably THEIR boss what I’ve told people to do all day. Skipping one is potentially dangerous. Skipping the other may cost me my job.

This sucks and I hurt.