Have you ever had one of those days when everything seems to go wrong? It’s not sitcom-worthy; it’s not even the worst day of your life. It’s just a bunch of small grievances when you were already feeling down, all adding up to choke your blood pressure. So you hop into your car to escape for a bit, only to hit a massive traffic jam. And then there are bees.
I may have to explain.
Nine years ago–seriously, it was September 17th–I was having a tough time. To cheer myself up, I put on my version of a daring outfit: a nice camisole (that didn’t hide my collarbone!), with a long-sleeved but slightly translucent shirt worn open over it. I think I even pulled on a pair of heels. Presumably there were khakis or something as well, because nothing says “daring” like khakis. Thus armed, I set out for a drive.
Cue: traffic, traffic, getting lost/confused a couple of times, more traffic, and finally stopping at a vista point to try to de-stress.
That was when the bees arrived.
Maybe I glimpsed a few drifting around the other cars as I climbed out. But that didn’t prepare me for what I found when I returned: a lazy mob of yellow bodies congregated around the tires and below the door. Waiting for me.
I had two choices: I could charge for the door, braving bees and risking letting some of them into my car; or I could stay at the vista point forever.
Or… use my fancy outfit to my advantage. I took off my shirt and started waving it at the bees, trying to chase them away.
As I was doing this, I realized that from a distance, no one could see the bees. All they could see was this girl in heels and a camisole waving her shirt around.
I think that was when I started laughing.
Nine years later, the bees have turned into needles.
That may also take some explanation. As I mentioned before, I have Crohn’s. It’s not my favorite blogging subject, but it’s been kind of hard to avoid recently. Between doctor’s appointments and dental work (which was my fault, but still unpleasant), I’ve had more needles in me in the past few weeks than I usually see in a year. Which would be trying on a temporary basis, but it looks like needles are going to become a regular part of my life for who knows how long.
Not that they won’t have upsides; hopefully, with this treatment, I’ll start to feel better. But that doesn’t change the fact that I hate needles, and I hate needing treatment, and there’s a gap between “not as bad as it could be” and “good.” Being able to get medical care is a wonderful, incredibly important thing. Needing medical care, not so much.
So this hasn’t been the most upbeat time. Then, on Thursday–which was supposed to be my day off–I got a call. And guess what my day off was now going to involve?
No, really. Guess.
That’s right. A needle.
It was for a procedure I badly needed, so I couldn’t complain. What I did do was laugh, ridiculously, on and off all day. And text a picture of my IV hand to my sister so I could be amused by her horror. (Tempted to post picture here too. Will resist.)
And the whole thing really was–still is–funny to me. Not that I’m happy about the needles; there are just so many. (“Hypochondriac Girl, meet your new sidekicks: the Needle Army! Try not to look directly at them.”) But I thank God for that switch in my brain that turns the exact same situation from overwhelming and depressing into inexplicably hilarious. And to all the people who create things that make us laugh at just the right times: thank you, too. I think sometimes laughter may save our lives.
All of this, anyway, is why I’ve had a hard time keeping up with the blog lately. I’ve had needles on my mind. Or, you know… other places.
But that’s enough seriousness for now. Have this random doodle-comic. (There, see? An art-type thing. I didn’t break my schedule.) I’m sure it’s relevant if you squint and look at it cross-eyed. And who knows? Maybe next week, I’ll have an update about the Copics.
P.S. If you’re wondering how I escaped from the bees: eventually, another car parked to the right of mine. The wind from its arrival shooed the bees away. I used the opportunity to climb into my car through the passenger’s side. Another thank you to whoever owned that car. I hope you escaped the vista point and its apparently hitchhiking bees as well.