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I was already feeling like a bit of a guinea pig, before my private chat with Dr. Wainwright. As a medical doctor, he had to follow the guidelines of patient confidentiality. That's why he couldn't discuss the results of my blood test in front of anyone else.
Chance was on his laptop when I walked into our room. "Is everything OK?"
"Yeah. I think so," I said, still feeling a little ill-at-ease with what Wainwright told me.
"What's going on? Are you OK, babe?"
I did my best to repeat the discussion I had with the doctor. "Dr. Wainwright said you could talk to him yourself as long as I give him permission to share my medical information with you."
"But you're OK, right?"
"I'm fine. I just have something weird in my blood. They don't seem to have any idea if it will ever cause me any problems or not. It could actually be a benefit, but there's no way to know."
"Are you OK with all this?"
"I'm not excited about being poked and prodded more, but I understand why they want to figure it out. If it can help cure some disease or improve medical treatment, I'm happy to help."
"As long as you're OK. That's all that matters," Chance said. "Of course, if my explanation for your anonymous medical care is correct, you realize what this means."
I guess my look made it clear that I had no idea what he was getting at.
"If bigfoot put that dressing on your arm, my guess is the unidentified ingredient is something like bigfoot spit. Now you're part bigfoot. How cool is that?"
"Double fudge."