A Mother's Love.

I've had a rough couple of weeks. I haven't seen or talked to my best friend at all during February, and as today is the first day of March, I can only hope that she may have a change of heart.
I've needed her this week, more than I've ever needed her.

On Thursday, I had a doctor appointment. It was just a consulatation...followed by me giving my whole arm's worth of blood. :-/
The good part was, I got out of work at 12:30, and didn't have to go back when my appointment was over. Instead, my dad and I went to Cristina's, and then back home, so I could rest.
Friday morning, I was woken up at 5:45. I had another appointment at 7:00, and I was to get an endoscope performed on me.
I totally wasn't excited.
I had a second, and then a third needle poked into me in the short amount of time of two days. My mom was right there with me, the whole time. She held my hand, and talked to me; tried to keep my mind off of what was happening. She kept running her fingers through my hair, and putting it behind my ears. When I squeezed her hand, she squeezed back, and let me know she wasn't letting go.
As the nurses began to give me anesthetics, I smiled up at my mom, and the nurses told her it was time for her to leave. I didn't want her to go.
I had an IV in my left hand, and they were checking my blood pressure on my right arm.
I kept being told to turn over on my left side, but was incapable of doing so. Um, I had a freaking needle in my hand. I had to gargle with some of the nastiest tasting liquid ever, and then spit it out ten seconds later. It was to numb my mouth, and my throat. As I began to turn over to my left, as much as I could, I began to cry. Not because I was scared, or nervous, as the nurses thought. But because, hello. I was laying on my IV!
The last thing I remember was somebody turning off the lights in the room, and wondering how they could see what they were doing if it was dark...
And then I fell into a deep sleep...

I woke up around 10:00, I guess. I was in recovery, surrounded by nurses, and my parents. I vaguely remember drinking some water, and talking to everybody. I remember seeing a man in the bed across from mine. We made eye-contact for a brief second, and I looked away.
One of the doctors told us that if we went to IHOP for breakfast, and I showed them my band, proving that I was in the hospital, then we would get 20 percent off of our breakfast.
I also vaguely remember sitting at IHOP, arguing with my dad whether I wanted regular pancakes or maple-nut pancakes, settling for plain, pouring syrup over my pancakes, and drinking chocolate milk through a straw.
And then the next thing I remember, I was laying down in my parents' bed.
Other than that morning, at 6:00, I don't remember being in the car at all.
I slept all day, mostly.
And Kevin was there for me a lot of the time. Calling me and asking me if I was okay, and if the procedure had gone well.

Now I have two bruises: one in my arm, where they drew blood, and one in my hand, where the IV was.

I'm scared to get results back. But I'm kind of anxious at the same time. I want to know what's wrong with me, so we can fix it, and I can get on with my life, the non-sick way.