The Lottery

Today I won the random drug test lottery. Sweet. I avoid going to the doctor's office at all costs and had anxiety thinking about it all morning, but, I knew there was no way to get out of it.


So I get to WorkMed and fill out the forms, yada yada, then this little nurse calls my name and says, "Hi sweetie! Come on back to my office." First of all- I hate when people younger than me call me sweetie. I don't love it when people older than me call me that either, but I especially dislike it when someone younger than me refers to me as sweetie. It makes me feel as if my very existence is so....insignificant. And she doesn't know that I'm sweet (in fact, I'm just the opposite as displayed by my little rant here) so why refer to me as sweetie? Second of all- since when is a toilet referred to as an office? But I stepped into her "office" and got stage fright. I knew what had to be done, and while my anxiety made me feel like I needed to pee out my nerves all morning, at the moment when I am free to let it out, I can't. I just sit there. I try to talk myself through it and assure myself that I can do this. But I can't. After what felt like hours of just sitting there and talking to myself, I'm finally able to "do my business." When I come out, the little nurse says, "Now this is for a DOT test so I need one more sample and I get to watch this time!" I wanted to say, "You wish, sweetie." Or take off running out the back door. But instead I just asked her to double check her paperwork because thank goodness it wasn't for a DOT test.


Hopefully I don't win the lottery ever again.