Day Two of posting is happening now, nearly three months after Day One of posting. I would like to try to make this a daily habit, as of now. Right now. I actually was going to throw away the entire prospect of a blog when I realized, for the past three months, in the back of my mind, during almost every single waking moment I had I kept thinking: "Now, this would be something to write about."
Perhaps I was afraid of scaring off readers with badly written blog entries and that is why there is such a large gap between entry dates. That fear stopped abruptly when I realized today that I have no readers. I also realized, maybe when I do get readers they will even like my badly written entries? Who knows? The world is a funny place. So...without wasting any more time...here I go.
I don't know if this happens to anyone else, but I am astonished at how often irony plays into real life. I mean-as I sit and type this first-second entry in a very long time (I could have lost twenty pounds in the amount of time I spent not blogging), I am bombarded by a purring two-year old striped cat-my cat-named Murray. Of course I am at the computer a lot, as almost everyone is-but when I sit down to do something I've been thinking about doing for literally MONTHS, the cat comes up and rubs his head all over the keys of the laptop, then the screen, then my hands....and I never want to push away a purring cat. I mean, if he were biting me, no problem. But purring? That's just cruel.
Anyway that reminds me of something that happened about four days ago. I have this thing about facing fears. I mean a HUGE thing. If I feel afraid of something, I've just got to face it, and it's a really good experience, I recommend it to anyone. For example, I went bungee-jumping, rode a horse for an hour, traveled to Europe over a large body of water also known as the Atlantic Ocean, went "surfing", I even got a small tattoo beneath my shoulderblade, just to face a fear of needles.
This actually leads me once again to what happened four days ago. I still have a slight fear of needles, but it's mostly when those needles have the very specific purpose of sucking blood out of a vein that pops out of you while a string is tightly wound to your arm and all of the skin puffs up while viles of that blood fill up one by one. It might be a little specific, but it's a fear.
I guess so far you may have gathered two very big things while reading this: I get a afraid of things, and I somehow make myself get over that fear, even if it's just for a few moments.
Well...I went for a routine checkup, because, I believe if you have to take your car in for oil changes and your pets to the vet and check up on your furnace and wash your clothes and WHATEVER, you should probably also go for a checkup or two every once in a while. So, I was at the checkup and the doctor said I was healthy and as she was escorting me to the spot to pay for my visit she mentioned casually she wanted my blood to be checked because my parents have high cholesterol.
Rather than question her about it I decided to take this sentence as a mature young adult and simply stated, "But I thought you said I was healthy."
She then retorted (and yes I want to use the word retorted because that's just what she did, she spat these words at me as though I were nothing but a walking talking thing with blood inside of it just waiting for her to analyze) "You are. This is just a routine check."
So....I went. I had to-the only reason not to go would be to avoid it because I was scared, and I thought that was not a reason at all to avoid something. It should be more like "I was scared BECAUSE...." For example: "I was scared to swim in that swimming hole because baby beluga lurks there and contrary to prior belief baby beluga has man-eating tendencies he can't control, and it is surely awake at this hour." My excuse for not getting blood drawn would not make any sense at all. It would be, "I can't because I'm scared because I'm scared." See? No real reason.
So here I am, at this place to get my blood sucked out of me into vile after vile. Five viles, actually. Five is normally my favorite number. Not that day.
After waiting in the waiting room for what felt like five hours but was in fact more like 34 minutes, I was summoned into a small white room with a nurse inside. I sat down. I started right away explaining myself-just in case I-on accident of course- died of fear.
My mind focused on a little anecdote my younger sister the RN had given me-without any names of course-about a young woman who had given birth and lost so much blood that when they went to put an IV in her arm her blood looked like water. My mind then flashed to the concept that had popped into my mind days earlier that whoever my nurse was could in fact be an evil mad scientist intent on taking 40 viles instead of 5 just for the heck of it. Then my mind flashed back to the present and I was ready to speak. I was already beginning to feel dizzy.
Once I explained my fear of the needles taking my blood from me the nurse said in a very calm voice this was common, and she took me into a room with a humungus recliner. This was certainly a one-size-fits-all recliner and I noted how it had plenty of room to drain a huge person of blood, which would back up the mad scientist idea that scared me so but then I just ignored it and thought about how I have to face my fear, I am being ridiculous and I just sat down.
I began to feel my face lift a shade, as though a little man had decided to paint it the kind of white you see on a mime. It just happened all at once. I looked like a mime. I acted like one too because it was hard for me to say anything once my eyes focused on all the empty viles, and of course the needle sitting in the nurse's hand, ready to pop right into my fresh, soft skin (definitely soft as I had not been to the gym in all those weeks I had not been blogging).
So....I asked about my options. She explained I could leave if I wanted. I asked if this was common as I was about to get up and she said it's never happened before. Then I pushed my bottom back to it's previous spot on the big blue seat. She said "people like you" meaning me or the people who are terrified of needles sucking blood out of them only to have that blood placed in vile after vile do not even get so far as the blood-taking place. She said she would only do this if I promised to keep my arm still. I told her no problem.
I stuck my arm out and immediately that little blue string thing was too tight. The turnekit or whatever it is called. I do not even want to bother backspacing into that word to study it and re-spell it correctly because frankly it freaks me out.
She then re-did the string thing and I looked away. She asked if I wanted her to tell me when she was going to stick it in and I said no, I would be able to figure out when it was coming but thanks anyway. Then she did it and immediately the little white room I was in turned black. She saw my face wobble a little and started talking to me about the weather. Which actually helped. It was done in about a minute. I laid on big blue for about ten more minutes. Thank God that was over.
When my eyesight was fully regained I walked on over to that nurse and thanked her for her kindness. I then told her I would always come to her when I needed blood taken out of me. Her face gave away the fact this wasn't entirely a great thing for her, but she did say I could come any time. (Which, let us be honest, is not an invite I would like to take her up on, though I know for sure I'd be able to handle another blood taking as I call it "like a champ" if I do say so myself).
Anyway, the reason why I mentioned this whole thing that happened four days ago is because of that irony I was talking about before. See, when the nurse was explaining that I didn't have to go through with this, she said when her doctor tells her to go in for a routine blood test, she just doesn't go. The blood tester does not go to blood tests. So ironic!
Well, on that note, I have been writing for a while, and I think that's all for today. Thanks for reading.