Got a call from my friend’s daughter recently to come quick mum (who has been my casualty buddy for the last four years) not doing good. I rushed out of the house with just my keys and whatever change I had in my pocket.
I held her as she cried and waited as the paramedics worked their magic and took her into the ambulance. I followed her in my car and as I walked into the emergency room it felt strange, strange that she was lying on the bed and I was sitting in the chair.
The phlebotomist came to take blood and put in the familiar cannula and I wanted to stretch out my hand, which surprised me as I really don’t like needles, and it made me think that maybe we can actually get addicted to ‘a condition’ or a situation. Have I become that ‘lupus person’ that I have heard people speak about? The one that defined herself in terms of whatever symptoms were presenting themselves? Scary thought!