I'm conflicted about how to write this. I can tell this story from two sides. Three, if you count mine.
So let's start with my side ...
Back in January, my general practitioner told me they wanted to do blood work to test my cholesterol and what not. She told me that in order to do the test, I would need to fast ... so just drop by the lab on my way to work. I am, at heart, a sleepy person. I stay in bed until the last possible moment, I get ready for work in around fifteen minutes, and I drive the shortest, quick route to the office. It's not that I didn't want to get the blood work done ... I just didn't want like the details of how I was supposed to get the blood work done.
Fast forward six months and it's time for another med check. My doctor mentions, casually, that I haven't done my fasting test. I lied. I told her I forgot. She said, "I notice that your nephrologist has standing lab orders in the system ... your next check with her is in August. I'm going to go ahead and add mine to hers. Now, when you to get your kidney function tested, you'll have to do mine as well." To make matters worse, she added extra orders to the original including liver function and thyroid tests.
Well, shit.
So now let's go to Stoney's side ...
Last night I was at his house and mentioned that I needed to make an appointment with a dermatologist. I have a mole that is bleeding and acting wonky ... and I need to have it checked out. He asked when my next kidney appointment is ... and I said it was August 27th ... and then I made the mistake of complaining about the long-overdue fasting blood work.
I guess he does love me?
He told me I had to get it done ... waiting six months was terrible and I had to get it done. I told him, "I'll do it tomorrow ... probably. I mean, I'll try. It's hard getting going in the morning but I'll see what I can do." At first he told me, "You have to take care of yourself. If you don't get that blood work done tomorrow, no kisses." I laughed and said, "I'm not coming over tomorrow night ... that's fine." He looked at me sternly and said, "No kisses all weekend." I grumbled ... and said, "Fine, I'll try."
At this point I should mentioned the blanket I have at his house. It is a large (large) over-sized, fluffy, white throw that is so soft that it feels like you're wrapped up in a cloud. I think he bought it for me out of love and kindness? But also because fall is coming and I'd basically taken over his football blanket. I love my new blanket ... I love it so goddamned much.
And so he told me ... "Get the blood work tomorrow ... or the blanket gets it." "What?" "Get your blood work done tomorrow morning ... or I'm setting it on fire in the driveway." "No! You wouldn't!" "No, probably not ... but would you risk it? Please ... it's important ... get the blood work done."
And so ... I did. Not only did I get it done ... I texted Stoney pictures of the outside of the building, the lobby, the lab cubical, the tech, and seven vials full of blood. Likewise, he texted me "proof of life" ... a photo of my blanket ... laying on the bed ... with a sign that read, "Thank you."
We were joking ... but I was glad he actually motivated me to get it done ... and I was glad that he cared enough to have an opinion about the whole thing in the first place.
Now ... I'm going to tell you the third side of the story.
I got an e-mail today from J. It read, "I heard you were supposed to get blood work done. Did you really go?" I was irritated. I wrote back a short, terse note saying, "Yes ... I went. I have a photo of the vials of blood if you need proof." He sent me back a short, three sentence message that brought tears to my eyes.
"You need to get your blood work done. I let K slack on that and you see where that got us. You don't get to slack anymore."
He's right. She blew off her blood test. More than once. She knew liver damage was a side effect of her medicine ... but her veins were small and it was hard for them to stick her ... and it hurt. So she didn't go.
Pain is an understandable excuse not to get blood drawn. But having an understandable excuse doesn't make her any less dead. It doesn't hurt when they stick me ... I just don't like to get up early. And not wanting to wake up early? Is a piss poor excuse.
So ...
Thank you, Stoney ... for caring enough to make me go.
Thank you, J ... for reminding me there are consequences.
We aren't kids anymore. This stuff is important. I miss her every day and I get it. No more slacking.
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