Is it a tumor?

I had my yearly (routine) blood work done today and am now awaiting the results on tenterhooks. I see the phlebotomist only once a year but she always remembers me, which is good when a person is inserting a sharp object into a vein and then sucking your life essence into a catheter. As always, I fear some kind of unexpected diagnosis, although the only reason for these labs is to gauge the general level of chemicals introduced to my bloodstream, and to check if my liver is still functioning. While I and many others who may read this know all too well that it's a luxury for the terminally healthy to entertain fears about terminal illness, it is also true that a surprising number of diseases (such as leukemia) are discovered by way of "routine" blood tests. Nevertheless, it is also fair to say that if there is something wrong, I will not find it strangely ironic, nor will I be writing about it in my blog.


Even though I invited her - days ago - to visit my blog, I know my mother is not going to read this. Therefore, please let me - in the words of Slavoj Zižek - "enjoy my symptom." Don't burst this delicious bubble of morbidity, no matter what you suspect she or my psychoanalyst might say. However, if you are reading this, Mom, why haven't you commented on any of my posts yet?