I’ve had it with giving blood samples. I’m squeamish about needles under the best of circumstances, although I smile bravely and don’t make a fuss when they’re rquired. It’s a bit harder now knowing that those samples really mean something. I had more blood drawn today, about two weeks after the last batch, so that my doctor can start to plot curves for my viral load and T-cell counts.
The thought that two weeks may show a change, for better or worse, is chilling. It doesn’t help much to think about how much worse I’ve felt lately, just from the constant stress of all this hulaballoo. I’m sure it’s not helping me much to be so wound up, so lethargic.
But I smile bravely and don’t make a fuss, even though I’d really like to.