SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

Profile - Archive�- RSS
Guestbook - Email - Diaryland

Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Tuesday, Feb. 09, 2016 @ 10:46 pm
WBC/120.8



I gain access to my blood test results in advance of my doctor appointment.

My white blood cell count is low.

Googling night sweats with low white blood cell counts is sending me down a dark, scary pathway.

I don't feel ill. I don't feel ill. I repeat to myself.

My weight has dropped to 120. I'm wondering if I'll see the 'teens for the first time since I was a teen. I'm nearing the limit of how I want to look. My sister's boyfriend made reference to my zero percent body fat at a recent family meal.

My blood, my blood.

I nearly passed out when they took the vials from my arm. No problem finding the veins. I felt my blood pressure drop like a stone as she pulled vial after vial, and the world starting darkening and turning into a tunnel. I put my head between my knees and apologized in stuttering words, trying to assure the nurse that I was still conscious, though just barely. Thump thump, thump thump. I can still feel the spot inside my elbow from where the needle entered my body.

My dad turned 70. I put together a party for him - a sunset snowshoe on the local mountain. Panforte, sparklers, dollar store champagne coupes, a cheap bottle of cava. Everything went flawlessly, and I saw in his eyes true happiness. I made him the proudest, happiest man in the world.

The sun setting. The colours of the sky. Sparking snow. Sparkling eyes.

Life is a blessing, today, tomorrow. Right now.


Roots | Shoots