A spooky tale, only a little late for Halloween. We enter our tale this very morning, a random Tuesday, when everything seems to be going fine in the clinic. Bob and Sarah have arrived, Elvis (acting as phlebotomist today) has taken Sarah’s weekly blood and no vampire jokes have been made, in case anyone was wondering. (I recall that being a pet peeve of a certain other phlebotomist reader of this blog 😉). Bob has already gone and returned with Starbucks snacks for the day ahead.
Picture the scene: Sarah is snuggled up into a chair downstairs hooked up to her drip with Bob in a chair beside her. They look comfy and calm, as the clinic bustles with activity around them. Sure, the lady snoring next to them is a bit annoying, and there always someone running around towards some miniature crisis, but it is a med clinic after all. None of this is new. Bob turns to Sarah, expecting her usual smile and maybe a side snug as they make their plan for the day. But she is gone. Oh her body is there all right, but something is definitely amiss. She isn’t facing him, she is staring blankly at... at what? He glances forward but sees nothing but a sea of IV poles. “Sarah,” he says, touching her shoulder. “Sarah. Are you ok? Do you want to talk about what you’re feeling?” No response. And then, sluggishly, a single word ekes out. “Good.” “You’re good?” He asks skeptically. “Fine.” she mumbles after another odd amount of time. When he finally gets her to face him there is nothing behind her eyes. She has gone full ZOMBIE MODE! Soon the MA comes by and gets the same responses, then her nurse, and quick measures are taken to remedy. Zombie mode starts to retreat and slowly Bob can see color and moment and emotion trickle back into her face.
Unfortunately, this was not the first time this had taken over his love. And he knew it would probably not be the last.
Mwah ahaha hahahahaha. 🎃🎃🎃
Ok. So. This did really happen today. And earlier a few weeks ago too. It’s a really weird thing to experience, like your life force just slowly drains away. But you guys, it’s not actually that bad. It’s kind of interesting to watch, in an outside-of-yourself kind of way. So don’t worry about it. There are a million worse symptoms. This just for the best a story. ;)
But the I just wrote this today because I wanted to be honest and say that being here can be just... stinky. I’m trying, I’m trying so hard to keep my spirits up and we do fun stuff and we have great days and everything, but 5 times a week I have to walk into that clinic and I just want to bang my head on the wall. And if I leave my port access in on the weekends (which my nurse would STRONGLY prefer I do EVERY time) then it sometimes can feel like there is never any break. I’m tired. I’m just tired. I need some hope that this is working. We’re meeting with one of the doctors tomorrow. Hopefully that helps. 👍👍
I love you all so much.
P.S. I took my port access point out last weekend for a little break. When I went in on Monday to get restuck/reaccessed, Elvis asked me why I had gotten deaccessed for the weekend. Had I had fun plans like the beach or something? I told him that it was either get deaccessed or punch someone in the face. He laughed and said that sounded about right- so I take from that reaction that I’m not the only patient who had been through this frustration before! 🤦♀️
P.P.S. Oh! Some good news! I got my sewing machine to work! Threaded it and the bobbin and everything myself and made my own Halloween costume! So that was fun. Yay! 😊