“A true friend laughs at your stories even when they’re not so good, and sympathizes with your troubles even when they’re not so bad” (Proverb)
All y’all are so sweet! After
hearing reading your medical horror stories, I didn’t feel quite so traumatized. Though, I did nearly faint again when they drew my blood (not as bad as your experience, Stephie! eep) despite the fact that they cleverly tricked me. The blood tech started asking me questions about the Corps, where I was to be stationed, what I’d be doing, what languages I’d have to learn and it all kept me focused enough to not pool on the floor – which is what nearly always happens. Kudos to her :D
And since it was a fasting sample, I didn’t get to eat food until… oh, 4:30 pm. Honest, I swear. It didn’t help that I stayed up until 3 am last night (oh, look at the time now…) and had a weird night (someone woke us all up at 8 or 9 am and I couldn’t fall back asleep for over an hour) and then (yes, I’m getting to the end of this long, run-on sentence) I finally woke up at 2 pm. And, of course, Dad and I had to run errands before I gave blood, because they were on the way and the Lab is on the other side of bloody town. Literally.
One further medical note, before I get to the cooler section of this post (camel down!), it seems I have not ever been exposed to T/B, a fact which surprised my father. The only thing that happened when they made that little bubble in my forearm was a slight bruise. No swelling. Fantastic! I do have to admit it’s a bit of a shock that I’ve never been in contact with the disease. My grandmother had several scars on her lungs from it, my uncle was sent up to a Sanitarium for a year to treat T/B, and my father had to take antibiotics for a year to prevent contagion. He says that whenever they test him for it, he gets a swelling the size of a quarter. Crazy.
In any case, that it definitely a small blessing (at the very least). My father’s lungs were never the same after the whole family T/B thing. He’s had pneumonia 3 x, twice in my lifetime. So… yeah. That’s definitely something I’m grateful for. And something I wonder at. As a history buff, I’m fascinated with the history of medicine. I’ve done my research on T/B – mostly because it was such an important fact of life until 60 years ago. Did you know that 1 in 5 people died because of T/B before 1946? The year scientists finally discovered an antibiotic that treated it effectively?
And, 60 years later, I’ve never even encountered it. What a strange turn. It makes me wonder when the cure for AIDs will be discovered.
Anyway. Sorry if you were bored silly. Here’s some cool fibery pix. I spun one of my fat-cored bobbins full of baby camel down singles, only to find that winding them with a niddy-noddy would break the yarn. So, I whipped out my Indian charkha, which came with a skein winder:
Oh, wow, 3 am. Okay, quickly. Gansey update: I finished the back of D’s gansey and cast on the front before moving onto the camel down. And, let me say that I suffer from no false modesty because of this piece. It’s a work of ART. It’s perfection. It should make angels weep, okay? The colour, the stitches, everything. I’m so in love with it, I’m afraid I won’t be able to part from it and see it worn by a rambunctious 6-year-old boy.
Well, no, not really. I’m sure it’ll look fantastic with his colouring. All I ask for is a picture before it’s destroyed completely and utterly.
… And it might just be the fact that the yarn costs over $8/ skein that made those angels weep, in all honesty. Criminey. I admit that a large chunk of the gansey’s beauty comes from the yarn. I’m madly in love with Lamb’s Pride Cotton Fleece now. Oy. Bad addiction to develop. It’s way out of my price range.
And, as a final note, the song “Anachie Gordon” is officially the most depressing song this evening. That is all.