Embarrassing Moment # 5,000,000 and counting

I can't believe I can still have embarrassing moments. I tell you, I have experienced every excruciating moment in all happenstance. I thought, for one very naive second, how many more could I possibly have? You name the moment; I have experienced it, and probably did it naked with astonished witnesses. I wish I could have these experiences by myself. I wish I had the luxury of taking a deep breath and whispering, "Whew, at least no one saw me..." This never happens. There is always, always, always an audience. It's a wonder I go out in public anymore.
What I have found is that if I tell the moment to people who weren't there, I can tell my side. Show how I am the victim put my spin on it. And the truth is, this particular experience isn't as bad as the one I alluded to above about the nakedness and the astonished on-lookers. I just feel incredibly stupid.
So that is why I have my ranting blog. So I can express myself and then hopefully move on-with my luck, into something a lot more devastating.
With this big build up I will disclose and move on...hopefully, very hopefully.
For the last several weeks, I haven't felt well. I can't pin point the reason exactly, although I really believe a Hawaiian Vacation during a Utah winter could do wonders.
Last week I went to a new M.D. She asked me a bunch of questions and then the next day I had to go back and get many vials of blood drawn. I hate Doctors. I hate having my blood drawn.
The day after the great siphoning my Doc called me and said, "I don't know what's wrong but, you are extremely anemic and I want to know if you are hemorrhaging during your periods."
This is a puzzle considering I had a full hysterectomy about 11 years ago. Can your female plumbing grow back?
I responded with, "No. I had a hysterectomy, they can't grow back can they?" thinking I was being funny. The Doctor didn't think I was at all funny, "No they don't grow back."
She then asked me to come in and pick up a "Stool-Sample-Card to check for bleeding."
My first knee-jerk reaction was, "Gross!"
My second reaction was, “its cancer, I know it."
The third reaction was "I'm OK, I don't need a Stool-Sample-Card, I'll just walk it off."
After almost a week, my husband convinced me to go in and pick up the card.
I walked into the waiting room where a bunch, I mean a bunch of people were waiting.
Every waiting room chair was filled with a waiting person and it was dead silent.
I waited too, behind a woman who had an appointment.
I finally stepped up in line and told the receptionist, wearing scrubs so I wasn't sure who she was really. A receptionist wearing scrubs, a nurse manning the receptionist desk, perhaps a Doctor? I wasn't sure.
I told her what I wanted, except I couldn't remember what it was called and asked for the piece of paper I was suppose to poop in.
She wrinkled her forehead and asked me, "What?"
I leaned in, “I need that thing to test my poop for blood. That paper thingy..."
She figured out what I needed, so did, unfortunately, the silent waiting room. I wish I had remembered the simple three word explanation of "Stool-Sample-Card". Why didn't I remember that? How hard is it to remember that? I chalk it up to stage fright.
The receptionist/nurse/maybe a Doctor, lead me to a small room in the back.
She took out an envelope and showed me the sample card. She showed me the instructions on the back. She told me, that all though the card states that it could be mailed, the Doctors would really much rather I bring it in.
I understood the request. Who wants a Bio hazard flying through the mail?
The woman then began pulling out surgical gloves, four actually "Here, you'll need these, and here's a hat..."
I looked at the "hat" she pulled down from one of the shelves. It was plastic, too.
"Why do I need to wear a hat?" I asked.
She looked at me weird, and turned it brim-side up, "It's not really a hat. You put it between the toilet seat lids to catch the sample in it."
Groan! Double Groan!
I am such a moron!
I know this woman laughed at me all day. I know she told people about the freak-show who came in and asked for a paper to poop in and then asked why they needed to wear a hat while taking a dump!
I feel so stupid. Look at me! Look at my beautiful dinner gloves and hat! Won't I be the envy of all in the bathroom stall?
Groan...