Cross your fingers. Cross your toes.

Let's all pray that I've just become a paranoid hypochodriac and that tomorrow when I go to the doctor:

A. I don't encounter one of those scary syringe things.
B. He tells me there's absolutely nothing wrong with my liver, gallbladder, ribs, etc.
C. I get a lollipop ... (I just threw that in there because I felt like there should be a "C.")