Speaking of medical stuff.................

Since I was sick, and the Christmas Eve blood unit was worthless, and they deferred me on New Year's Eve.............I had to go Downtown to the Uber Hoxworth center (which we went on a field trip to, strangely enough, in AP Chem last year............I remember because Lindsay was making fun of me because I got queasy looking at the fridge full of blood units). The dumb ass appointment lady in charge of it all forgot to fax my stuff over there, so instead of starting at 11, we start at 11:30, after I convince them that I'm supposed to be there. Pretty much the same deal as at Anderson, although I did see a few familiar faces (apparently Hoxworth employees are notoriously shifty) and they asked me if I weighed enough (that makes 3, they've questioned my age, weight, and height at different times..............I still got it, lol). My vein spasm-ed as they were taking the last vial and I felt the needle shudder, and they guy taking my blood said he saw my face go flush and my hand felt clammy, so I stayed a few extra minutes, but overall, that makes my 4th and final unit. Now, pretty much the only thing left is to finish work (my last day is the 10th), and school (my last day will probably be the 13th).

I was tired afterward, like usual..............but this time I woke up on the floor. I can't explain it.

I think maybe my biggest problem with the whole "surgery" thing is my status as a pilot and my underlying fear/confrontational problems associated with it. See, in all of human history, pilots and doctors have been mortal enemies. Classic villian and hero combo (you decide which label for which). Doctors have an obligation, the Hippocratic Oath, to do their sworn duty, which is to make sure every pilot that's within reach is safe and fit to fly in the very best condition. With that, it's been every sworn pilot's duty to avoid doctors at all costs. AT ALL COSTS. Every trip to the doctor is a sign of weakness, one step closer to being removed from flight status. I've already hit that marker, and it's pissing me off. I haven't flown in two months, the airport is calling me, and I have to tell them no. I wish, no, I yearn to return to the sky- I look skyward and I get depressed, willing myself to accept my burden only temporarily- and every test, every blood unit, every consultation and doctor visited is like a clipping of my wings, one more obstacle to overcome to fly. :::sigh::: Sometimes I wish I was normal enough to avoid any major doctor problems (too late- teeth, eyes, back, feet, ect).

I dunno, maybe I'm overexaggerating. In one sense, I do appreciate everything everybody does for me so I can be healthy. I'm glad I live in the U.S. with the best doctors, and in Cincinnati with the nationally rated Children's Medical Center, glad my problems are minor compared to many of the other diseases some kids have, glad my parents have a health plan that can pay for all of this, glad that people, my parents and teachers, my boss, understand that this isn't my fault and try to work around this all. In most respects, I have nothing to complain about. I could have many, many worse diseases. HOWEVER...........I have plans. I fly. I take 4 AP classes. I work almost 30 hours a week. I don't like the interruption- but I realize that health problems rarely work around my schedule..........and I get to use my surgery as my ultimate trump card at school.

But I don't want too.

I guess, when it's all stripped down, all my ego defenses gone and pre-concieved notions aside, I'm afraid of one simple feeling.......one simple word. Pity. Every time I go to a hosptial, to a consultation, a meeting, I feel pityed. I feel pityed by my classmates, my parents, my siblings, my peers, my grandma.........AHHHAHHhhhhhghrrhrhhhgh.............I HATE THIS FEELING. I realize that 99% is in here :::points to my brain::: but I feel it. No matter what anybody says, I feel it. I feel it when I hear
"he's too young to have to deal with all this"
"I wish there was something I could do, but I can't"
"I don't know what you're going through"
"here's a gift"
"I know exactly what you're going through"
"I'll pray for you" (never mind the complications with my atheism and all)

I feel it. I bathe in it. I am smothered by it. It crushes my soul and wears me down........ I want people to talk to me, to help me, but I push them away. I want them to leave me alone and not ask about it. I feel that damned feeling- pity. It makes me feel small. weak. helpless. At a time in my life when now, more than ever, I need to spread my wings (no pun intended) and become a man, to grow up, to be independent..........and I hold my mom's hand as they slide me into an MRI machine. I don't ask her to be there...........I don't ask her to go away. I feel pity. I hate pity. I'm too old to want my parents there...............but I'm too young, even legally, to do this without them. So I'm forced through this all, with them at my side, looking at me with that look in their eyes- they say it's love, it's comfort- but it stings my very core- light on the blackest spot in the very deepest part of all that I hold sacred- a needle to the balloon of my conscience and confidence- pity.

That's what hurts the most. Not the needles. Not the sitting, the waiting, the drugs, the weariness. It's pity. Don't pity me. If you don't, and I think you do, I'm sorry. If you do, please don't let me know. It kills me.