Not as serious as it sounds, routine blood work for physical.
Walking the same path, I am reminded of the last time I saw my friend, but she didn’t see me and I hesitated talking to her, afraid it would rouse her from her coma of death. A coma she no longer wanted to wake from because she decided it was her time to go home.
I watch the hospital employees striding by and the patients walk slower. Most have no where else they have to be.
I smell that coffee smell in the hall because they chose to put a shop in one of the hallways. I was fasting so really wanting a cup, even if it’s de-café now.
The lab technician is reading something when I come into the office. She asks me for something and I don’t hear all of it for some reason. She repeats it again and seems annoyed. I’m praying she’s not the one that will be drawing my blood.
She’s is the one and when she begins her task, her demeanor changes completely and even though my arm has a poke in it, I’ve had worse phlebotomists.