Hematology Appointment: Finally, Somebody’s Trying to Fix Me
Well, folks, the hematology appointment was actually a success. Can I get an amen? At least somebody is finally going to try and fix whatever my 44-year-old body thinks it’s doing pretending to be 70. I’ll be getting my very first—and Lord willing, my only—210-minute iron infusion in the next couple of days.
They even had an opening today at 1 pm, but guess what? Carson had his appointment with his new psychologist at that exact time. And let me tell you, that one could not be canceled. My boy’s mental health comes first. He can’t run out of his medicine, not with everything we’ve been through in the last 7 months. Plus, his Adderall is running low, and without it… well, let’s just say high school might eat him alive. So, yeah, my infusion can wait. I’ve been running on low iron for over 7 months—what’s another day or two, right?
Now, if only I could actually sleep more than three hours at a time, I’d be golden. Have you ever been so bone-deep exhausted you don’t want to move, but the second your head hits the pillow your body’s like, “Nope, not today, bestie”? That’s me. And when I do sleep, I’m hit with these insanely vivid dreams. Blessed, because I get visits from Jimmy and Nannie. Cursed, because they feel so real I wake up and then can’t go back to sleep.
Both nights, it’s been the same setting—Nannie’s living room. Just me, Jimmy, and Nannie, sitting there laughing and talking. Different conversations, same love. They’re telling me stories, reminding me they’re proud, and just showering me with that warmth I miss so much. And then I wake up, and the ache of missing them knocks the wind right out of me.
So there I was at 2:30 this morning (because apparently that counts as “morning” now) staring at the ceiling with a pounding iron-deficiency headache—the one that’s been hanging out for three weeks straight like it pays rent. That was enough reason to drag myself out of bed and start the day.
Anyway, enough of my rambling. Time to throw on my shoes and walk Carson to the bus stop. Wish me luck—and maybe some actual sleep tonight, or even better, a quick nap this morning.
