Well, the test is done. They took my blood. And in three weeks, I will know if I have Huntington's Disease or not. Strangely, I feel more at ease now than I did yesterday or the the day before or the day before that.
The day actually wasn't as horrific as I had built it up to be. The doctors were very nice and comforting and the meeting felt more like a conversation than the therapy session I was picturing. They asked about family history and the pros and cons of knowing and all of the things I went through with my mom. I didn't cry. I felt like I needed to be there. I'm 100% sure that I made the right decision in getting tested.
After the conversation was over, I signed a consent form and went to the lab where they would draw my blood. My form had HD circled and specific instructions to put my blood in a container with a purple top. They also gave us a numbered ticket like they do at the deli in the grocery store. I got number 00. Good or bad? Who knows? As we waited there, I looked around. Everyone in the waiting room was getting blood drawn for one reason or another. I'm sure that they all looked at their number and their forms with the same critical eye that I did. What color was their container? Was their number lucky or unlucky? I guess it's pointless thinking about luck. It's not like the blood sample from today will give me a different result than a blood sample from any other day.
I didn't look when they stuck the needle in. Neither did S. But he held my hand and squeezed it really tight.
And then it was over.
I have my results date. It's Monday, May 20th around lunchtime. It's an entire week before I thought I'd know. On one hand, I'm happy that the painful waiting period is cut short. On the other hand, I lose a full 7 days of ignorance.
I guess at this point, there's nothing to do except wait.