On having a blood test.

I cried behind my mask today.
Not metaphorically, but literally.
These were no silent tears, they were loud-ish.
Loud enough to bring the lady who’d been, shall we say, unhelpful, a few minutes before, into the room I was waiting for my blood to be taken.
She pretended she needed to look at something, but she didn’t. She needed to look at me.

And she never said a word.
Not one.
And the nurse who took my blood didn’t say anything either.
Except to ask me to hold my arm out, which I did.
She then asked if she could explain something to me. I said no, please just take my blood. I know it’s not your fault.

An observer might think they were cold.
Callous even.
But they did their job. They did a blood test I’d been trying to get done for over a week. They followed procedure.

And what I needed in that moment wasn’t someone to pat me on the shoulder,
no there, there, there.
Not even a hug.

I needed to cry.
Ugly cry if necessary.
Because tears are healing.
It’s important sometimes to let our prayers roll down our cheeks.
And when it comes to tears, I believe it’s better out than in.

Especially at the moment.
When we can’t articulate what is happening inside, our tears will say it for us.
Other emotions too. Sorry Joel... 😘

I’m now sat in Costa having coffee and a toastie.
It was a fasting blood test so it was probably a hangry cry too.

I hope you’re having a good day.
Remember it’s better out than in.
With most things not all.
Residents of Testosterone Towers, I’m looking at you...


Lots of love xx




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