Pregnancy scares and the word "possibility."

Walk with me through this memory, because as I'm told by one person in particular, it is more than blogworthy, which in and of itself is quite blogworthy considering it happened mostly alone and in the time frame of about 45 seconds.

A couple of weeks ago I was yet again burdened with the responsibility of waking up at a relatively decent hour (10ish) so that I could attack the day with a slow-starting and mild voracity (haha). As some of you have witnessed first hand, I am not at all the kind of person you wish to deal with upon my waking up...physically and mentally I am a mess, it's just that simple. So clad in my usual sleep get-up, shirt and chonies, I stumble (almost quite literally) to the bathroom for my morning piddle, my massive amount of hair whirled about and wrapped around my neck with bangs stuck to my forehead. As I gently seat myself upon the toilet I look around the bathroom trying to help my eyes adjust to consciousness once again. My view goes from the bath tub ("Is that a spider?! No...just hair.") to the clothes on the floor ("Blegh.") to the tiny trash can that lives directly to the left of the toilet (When you're sitting, which I was.). I take a quick glance down into it with no real intention of paying attention to any of the treasures thrown there, and look away - "Did I really just see that?!" and in a nano of a nanosecond I pulled the quickest double take possible by someone in my semi-conscious condition. "I DID!" Horror struck all senses and I was awake, and just like when you're terrified for your life, my surroundings started palpitating with my increasing heart beat and my vision was crystal clear. A pregnancy test box, placed ever-so gently atop the overflowing pile of mangled tissues and Q-Tips. And worse (As if at this point I could articulate anything worse), there is no actual pregnancy test stick to validate either scenarios a) of sheer horror or b) peace once again. "Whose could this be?!" Jesus'?...don't be silly. Grandma's?...certainly not. Mine?...most definitely not (I'm suffering from a 24 year dry spell afterall.). My mom's?...My mom's!? And before I forget, not only is the room still grooving to the beat of my heart, but now the pregnancy test box is like a Ford Excursion sitting on top of my trash can. So I finish piddling (Or for all I know, it had ceased itself and sucked itself back up into my body in my growing panick, I don't know.) and all that it entails, pull up my drawers and rush out into the hallway to the cutout at the end that overlooks my Grandparent's bedroom extension that most people call the "living room." "Grandma!" I say, trying to sound calm but really sounding like I just found a pregnancy test box in my bathroom that could only belong to my mother, which I am truly panicked about and have just rushed out of a bathroom to inquire about her whereabouts, but I don't think she caught on. "Uh, Grandma...where's mom? My mom?" Because there are so many people running around out there whom I call mom. "Oh, she's at a doctor's appointment." I'm pretty sure at this point my heart stopped, or at least my brain stopped, but I manage to say, "Oh." But really mean, "SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" I just don't have the time, so I run to my room to my cell phone. Speed Dial 3, send. It rings 58273598273 times. Voicemail, hang up. Repeat. Repeat. I'm thinking, "Pregnancy test, doctor's appointment, my mom's lack of answering my phone call." "fJKFJN:BY**W(&*WHQHIDSHFHBSF(&SFHS" is the clearest thing running through my mind and so I throw my phone down and fly down the hallway to my parents' bedroom and crash land in the doorway of their bathroom. And this is where tiiimmmeee ssssslllllloooooowwwwwwssss ddddoooooowwwwwnnnnn. I look across the bathroom and see it, the pregnancy test stick just lying there in the most obvious spot, and its presence is like the Holy Grail, heavy and powerful. Only I'm not all that thrilled about it. The walk across the bathroom takes approximately 3.7 hours and I close my eyes as I stand above it thinking through all the possible scenarios either answer (Pregnant or Not Pregnant) could render. And as I talk myself through them I suddenly open my eyes, as if to surprise myself so that I wouldn't have time to change my mind and run out of the room, and see the answer.

Side note...I never realized how strong a grip a cheap white plastic pregnancy test that isn't even mine could have on my sanity. Crazy.

Anyway, the results are rather anti-climactic as it turns out she isn't pregnany...never really even thought she was pregnant but had to take the test before she could have an MRI done because of an interesting miscommunication of the word, "possibility"...and planned this whole dirty scheme.

I love that woman.