It takes two days for my doctor to call me to discuss the results. I use this as justification that it couldn't be that bad. If the numbers really meant something medically wrong, they would have called sooner, from the lab even, to let me know what to do. They would not have waited two days or more. I'm fairly happy with this reasoning.
Wendy is still not convinced.
My doctor calls on the phone and says he got the results and I need to get in to see an hematology oncologist immediately. As in the next day. He says the white cell count is too high to be an infection. I convince myself it could still be stress or parasites. In fact, never in my life have I wanted to be infected with disgusting, wormy parasites more. I would welcome them in my stomach or intestines right now. I would feed them well.
My doctor gives me the name of two oncologists to try and make an appointment with. He says to see whichever one will take me first. The earliest his first choice can fit me in is next Friday, a full week away. I tentatively book it and call the second one hoping for something sooner. As much as I fancy loving my parasites, it would be nice to know whether or not I'm actually harboring them. They can get me in on Tuesday, only 5 days away. I take it.
Two hours later, the first choice oncologist calls me back and says that they can get me in tomorrow at 4pm. I guess my doctor called them and they figured it was urgent enough. Now I start to worry.
I lie to Wendy and tell her it's no big deal. They will draw my blood tomorrow afternoon, the counts will be down and we can chalk it up to stress (which sounds better than parasites).
She doesn't looked convinced.