So, I’m anemic again. I have been, on and off, for years, but I thought I had it licked this time. Not even close, apparently.
It was almost a relief to get the call from the lab. I’ve been feeling slightly fucked up for weeks, somewhere between edgy and scattered and bone-tired. I could feel myself receding from things; the nerves were too close to the skin, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I assumed it was stress, because everything is stress.
Sometimes I worried that it had come to it—that the recessive genes had surged, and that I was finally going mad. Would you know it if you were? My brother didn’t. I doubt my mother did either.
So now it’s back on the iron pills and hoping they take, quickly. I’ve got shit to do.