If you are a nurse at my OB's office, here is the procedure for scaring the living daylights (whatever those are) out of me:
1. As I'm checking out and scheduling my next appointment, come out and tell me that the results from my glucose test are being faxed over by the lab as we speak, and that if I'd like to wait for them it should only be a minute.
2. When the receptionist tells you that the fax has already come through, take the piece of paper she hands you, glance at it, and tell me regretfully that I'd better come back in to see the doctor as soon as I'm done scheduling my next appointment.
3. If possible, send a telepathic message to the receptionist to take as long as possible with the scheduling, so that I'm forced to wait endless minutes to find out what is wrong.
4. When I come back into the bowels of the office, usher me into the doctor's actual office (you know, the one with the desk and the bookcases where he tells you the really bad news, as opposed to one of the exam rooms) very sympathetically, as if you're leading me to the guillotine.
5. Through this whole time, be very careful not to give any sort of sign to the obviously-nervous me that it's not what I think, that my glucose levels are beautifully low, that instead of the worrisome complication of gestational diabetes I have the minor complication of borderline anemia, for which the doctor is merely going to prescribe adding an extra iron pill to my daily vitamin regimen and send me on my way. Be sure not to give me any sign of this. Because those four minutes of terror? Really brightened my day.
I called today and signed up for a class at our local Lamaze center, the logic being that it can't hurt and it might help, so why not? I've been meaning to do this for a while now but finally got around to it thanks to the not-so-subtle hinting of my illustrious father. (Hoping you don't mind being outed, Dad, but you asked for it!)
And now I'd better sign off and get dressed, because I'm going over to spend the afternoon with Jen, and although I'm sure she wouldn't mind if I showed up in my pajamas, I would be embarrassed.