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.