While most teenagers my age were checking into school, sitting through lectures and doing questions, I was on my way to the lab.
Most of the time I'm ok with this life, ok with having to miss school to go to the lab (Ok, I'm totally ok with the missing school part, just not sure about the lab part.)
While most teenagers my age were having conversations with friends and teachers, I was talking with my favorite lab techs.
I'm ok with that too, ok with the fact that I now know lab techs at that hospital better then I know the teachers at my school.
I was cold, so they wrapped me up in warm blankets. They tried different needles, different arms, different veins. 7 pokes later, the finally got blood, from a vein in my left hand.
Currently I'm sporting 3 Barbie Band-aids, one on each arm and one on my hand. In less then an hour I'm going to class, with other, normal teenagers who didn't spent the morning getting poked with needles and catching up with those lab techs you (usually) only see once every 3 months.
This is my life. It's mine, and today it's good. Today instead of making me feel different, it makes me feel special. It makes me feel like I have this secret and it's bubbling up inside of me.
Days like this are the ones I want to hold on to. These are the good days, the days when my 2 worlds seem to blend seamlessly, when I feel special instead of sick. These are the good days, and I want to hold on to them as long as I can.
I wear my band aids like a purple heart, something I am proud of more then I am ashamed of it.
"Nobody goes into battle wanting to win a purple heart. You do the right thing, and sometimes it gets you a medal and sometimes it gets you killed"