Earlier today, I was at the Dr.'s office. It was actually my 7th encounter in 3 weeks with medical personnel in some form or another. Not all of those encounters were for the same reason, but the majority of the visits were all related to a little scare I had. Needless to say, it has been a very tiring, emotional, anxiety-ridden few weeks. So today, the day of verdict so to speak, I went to what I thought would be the beginning of a long road. It was a lab setting, a very large operation. The people at the office sent me to a room to get into a lovely blue paper gown, and then told me to have a seat in a waiting area. The waiting area was filled with sad-looking women in blue paper gowns. I know it's a sick thought, but just for a moment, I felt like I was waiting in line for the showers at the concentration camps. It just had such a sterile, factory sense about it, with an added feeling of doom hanging overhead. I know it's no comparison, but it really felt ominous. Fortunately, it turned out to be my last appointment, hopefully for a while. The very good news is that the diagnosis proved to be negative and it was determined today (by 2 different doctors and 3 different tests) that my initial results were a false positive. I feel much better, very relieved. The rest of the story is really mostly unimportant... But the eerie part of the story was when I was leaving the last office, the music playing on the sound system was the soundtrack for "Schindler's List", I kid you not! Creepy! I feel blessed to be one of the survivors.