To the doctors and nurses who treat me, I am their patient. I sit in their waiting rooms as their patient, I get blood drawn as their patient.
To others who know me, I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a niece, a cousin, a friend, a co-worker.
To myself, who am I really?
A writer, a dreamer, a knowledge seeker, an expert at sarcasm, a wine lover, a sports fan, a cat herder.
But at times, I feel I am something else.
In the midst of high blood glucose, or while experiencing a panic attack, or during the morning routine of medication, or when feeling the darkness of depression, or even looking at the surgery scar in the mirror – I discover I am a patient.
Posted on October 22, 2011, in Health. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.
As your friend, I appreciate all of your roles…
And if you were not a d-patient, we wouldn’t have met.