I got back home around 7:00 a.m., having left a few vials of blood and a teaspoon or so of pee for the lab people to test and assess. The blood-letting specialist, a woman who has extracted my blood on a few occasions in the past, did the job again today. As usual, she insisted on trying my arm first. Failing to find a willing vein—but quickly finding and stabbing an especially sensitive nerve—she agreed to try stabbing me in my right hand. That hand has gotten used to being jabbed during the course of blood-letters’ explorations for blood geysers. The hand and its underlying vein obliged immediately, spraying the red fluid of life into three waiting tubes. The woman, apologizing for my excruciating pain, covered the puncture holes with white gauze and white tape, the latter of which was attached to my flesh with low-end adhesive materials that quickly released their hold on my skin, allowing the gauze to flutter in the breeze. Duct tape would have worked better. It might not have been quite as sanitary, though.
Homeward bound, I spied a donut shop. I stopped and picked up some apple fritters for breakfast. I had been prohibited from eating or drinking anything for several hours before the blood-letting, so the sweet seemed like a proper reward for my starvation. Coffee at home would be my reward for forcible thirst.
My physical is scheduled for 11:15. Between now and then, I will contemplate life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Yours and mine.
I will attempt to get more sleep sometime soon; no later than Friday of next week.