..it rains vials.
So one doctor says that ongoing sleep loss could be life-threatening. Stop cleaning, don't drive, do not pass Go, do not collect $200, etc.
The other doctor says I'm so anemic I am not to move. Stop cleaning, don't drive, do not pass Go, you got it.
Not loving the languishing at all. Unable to sleep despite taking pills that could bring a fleet of elephants to their knees. Lots of time to sit and assess my shit hole house, and you know, how to mend a heart that has been reduced to powder.
Just as I began to doze today I got my second urgent phone call in as many days, this time saying that my blood work revealed a rare disorder that would make my surgery life-threatening, and that I need to arrive at the clinic within .8 seconds for however many more vials. Only I can't drive, or really walk, you know?
And I have a very unfortunate pathological resistance to accepting help of any kind, particularly if it involves asking. Even if four people offer to drive me, I will refuse them all, because I'm proud (and stupid) like that. I didn't have to worry about help for four years, because I had angel who took the most amazing care of me, through all surgeries great and small. So I'm rusty. And admittedly pretty resolved to never trusting anyone again or letting them see me weak or scared or bleeding.
It is said that God chastens the ones he loves. Man, I am really feeling the love.