Untitled is actually a title...

I hate my blood. Most days, I try not to think about it. I try to avoid fixating on those wicked, misbehaving little cells streaming through my veins. After a week of feeling weird, I went to the doctor after work. Sitting by the door in the little waiting room, I played with my phone and texted randomly until my name was called, feeling chilled. Winters fingers have been caressing the nights, frosting breath in air.

My temperature was a little high but no swollen glands, no sore throat, no coughing. So, as usual, they went after my blood. Putting the cuff around my arm they went to get my blood pressure - which is usually really really good. This week, however, I hardly have any at all, lol. 90/60...This explains all the lightheadedness, apparently.

Then jabbing me with a butterfly needle and drawing lots of little vials, ready to be rushed off to various labs for processing.

Again, no real answers. The only thing they ruled out was pregnancy. Great. So the one normal thing that would at least make some sense wasn't what was happening to my body. Sometimes, I think I'd like to just replace all of my blood with something else. Something not so confusing, not so esoteric. Apple cider. Or a nice Indian beer. Something sparkly and bubbly.