Waiting for My Dog's Test Results Evokes Bad Memories

Sometimes, the longer you wait for test results, the more tricks your imagination plays on you.

Twenty minutes, no problem. Thirty, what are they going to find? Forty-five, it’s going to be bad. Fifty, it’s probably fatal. More than an hour, they are trying to figure out how to tell me.

A unexpectedly long trip to the vet's office

I had forgotten how it felt until I waited for more than an hour in my vet’s office for my dog’s urinalysis. What, you say? Comparing a dog’s possible urinary tract infection to a blood cancer diagnosis? Well, my chocolate Labrador retriever is more than 12 years old, and I am very attached to her. She had a bad urinary tract infection, treated with antibiotics, and I had brought in another sample to make sure she was OK.

Ronni sits with her dog.

The receptionist said it would take no more than 20 minutes. When it got to be longer than that, I asked if she had forgotten me. She said she had to wait until the vet was in between appointments. I talked to a woman with a dog so small she held it on her shoulder as though it was a little baby. He was scared. I petted him between the ears. The feeling of his fur calmed me down.

I leafed through Modern Dog Magazine. I read almost the entire New Yorker profile of the French president, Emanuel Macron. It reminded me of the time I read a long article about the popularity of jellybeans to distract myself at my first clinic visit after my long hospitalization more than 10 years ago. As my wait had grown longer, I was figuring that my counts had fallen and they were trying to figure out what to do about it.

Does a longer wait mean worse news?

At the vet’s office, by the time the 50-minute mark passed, I had self-diagnosed my beloved dog with a fatal kidney disease.

The vet finally came out. She said she was very sorry. She didn’t know I was waiting. She usually sees the results and makes calls after hours. And the results showed… drumroll… the dog was fine. I asked the receptionist why she hadn’t told the vet I was waiting. She gave me the “not my job answer”: “I told the technician.” Needless to say, this was annoying. But the good news relieved me.

Why don’t we paint beautiful scenarios? Such as, the results will be fine. Everyone will live happily ever after. Maybe preparing for the worst is a survival instinct.

Scanxiety and worrying about blood cell counts

In the past when you got your blood counts, your doctor read them to you from a piece of paper. Nowadays, it’s all on the computer. I used to know I was fine if, when I went into my doctor’s office, he asked, “How’s your tennis game?”

I am trying to come up with a word with a similar ring to a lymphoma patient’s “scanxiety.” AML patients don’t get scans. We get blood tests. The anxiety is over whether our blood counts will be normal. Count-xiety doesn’t cut it. You can’t have one word. How about count-craziness? If you think of something, let us know.

The things we do for our beloved pets

Hey, want to know how to get a urine sample from a female dog? I hear it’s harder with a male. If you don’t want to know, stop here.

You take a paper plate and a pill bottle or a small jar with a lid. You go out to walk your dog. When she squats, you quickly push the paper plate underneath her to catch some pee. You have to be fast, before they catch on. Then, you tell the dog to sit. You fold the plate in half and pour the pee into the bottle. Next:

Dispose of paper plate. Put bottle inside bag and put bag in fridge. If other people live in your household, mark DOG PEE, DO NOT DRINK, and take to vet within 24 hours.