parachuting eggs.

Someone asked me last night if I was getting really excited about leaving. I gave her the long answer, with my signature long-winded wordiness, but the short answer is no. It's like I keep waiting for something to actually happen to prove I'm actually going, something solid and concrete to come together. This one specific confirmed detail would be a godsend, would give me something to cling to, but has yet to materialize. I don't have that feeling yet, that I'm actually going to go do this. Mostly it just feels like I've been really lazy, and haven't cleaned my apartment in a long time.

I was hoping today would be the day something would happen. My dive physical was scheduled for 10:50am with Doc Hutton. I arrived, and handed off the little form that needs to be filled out, only to find that neither Doc Hutton, nor any other doctor in that particular clinic, was familiar enough with the physical contraindictions to the more specialized (mixed gas, saturation) diving I'll be doing in the program, and couldn't sign off on the form. After Doc Hutton's, I was shuffled around to several other clinics in the St. Louis Park Park-Nicollet facility, only to have each of them scratch their heads in wonder at what I was asking of them.

I've had the tests done before, when I started at the aquarium. I know there are doctors who know how to perform the exam, and can determine whether I'm fit for diving. The glitch is that these doctors work in Occupational Medicine, where the tests are requested by companies, not individuals. When the tests were requested of the Occupational Medicine Clinic by Doc Hutton's nurse by phone, I was refused. That I was an individual requesting these tests for going back to school was, apparently, confusing for them. Impatience got the best of me, and I went to the Occupational Medicine Clinic to talk to one of the nurses myself.

The form disappeared with a nurse for a while, and she came back with good news, that indeed, one of the doctors could perform the exam. I made the appointment, but was still skeptical. I went to the car and after a brief heat- and frustration-induced crying jag, called Judy, my sole contact at the MDT office thus far. I like Judy. She's very helpful. She must recognize my name by now, as I've called several times, and because there can't be more than a handful of women planning to attend. I felt better after talking to Judy.

I decided not to go back to work. Instead, I went to talk to Josh at Smith Diving, who has been extremely helpful in helping me find gear. Today I walked out with a wetsuit, and very soon my BCD will arrive.

I maybe feel a bit differently, despite the day's confusion. I have my wetsuit, after all, and that's a step toward getting to SBA. Maybe my attitude's wrong. I keep waiting for things to fall into place, erroneously thinking that things have simply fallen into place with my other trips. Not so. There were plenty of mishaps, and missteps, and confusion, and alterations along those roads as well. And I've never felt the decision I'm making at the time was the right one. All the decisions have been challenging and scary. Mostly I know the decision is right. I'd just prefer it to feel a bit differently.