Needle Insights (Day 117, Year 2)

My bloodwork post yesterday took on a life of its own. 

The people that pay me to produce good content and marketing programs that get results always love it when I share insights from my projects and the data I pull. I always have loads of interesting (at least to me) insights. Here are my bloodwork insights:

1. YOU ARE ALL NOSY.

2. YOU ARE ALL OLD LIKE ME.

3. YOU ALL WANT TO SHOW YOUR MEDICAL RECORDS AROUND. . .which makes me believe you are perfectly fine and just want to humble brag about your beautiful blood. 

4. MANY PEOPLE WHO ARE IN MY INNER CIRCLE DO NOT READ MY BLOG AND INSTEAD ASK ME QUESTIONS THAT COULD BE ANSWERED BY READING MY BLOG. . . which makes me feel like the teacher who refuses to answer questions that could be answered by doing your homework!

I usually do not write my professional insights in all caps. But, it seemed appropriate given my current situation. 

On a more serious note, my bloodwork showed all sorts of horrible, ominous things. I do not seem to have cancer, so that's good. But, I have other sorts of weirdness that I cannot even write down here, yet. But, rest assured, minus my mental illness, sense of impending doom, healthcare anxiety, eye twitch and silent diseases currently eating me from the inside out, I am totally fine. 

Just like I always am! Fine! Fine! Fine! 

For now, I am not sending anyone my bloodwork, except for at least 17 people tonight, but only if they show me theirs first (as social leverage).  I don't need to become the subject of old lady gossip around the nursing home rec room!  

Tomorrow, I check in via telehealth with my doctor (who is delightful and guess what: FRENCH!). She'll give me her insights (hopefully not in an all-caps shouting sort of way and hopefully insights that don't require me to visit additional medical professionals without being medicated for insanity.) I am guessing she will make recommendations, which I'll probably do it to the extreme, then stop doing whatever it is completely, only to then fail at the next bloodwork and end up sharing insulin (but not needles!) with my diabetic dog. 

Speaking of Henry, ever since he started his insulin protocol (twice a day, with a sharp needle), he's been back to his rowdy, misbehaving self. 

Which goes to show you another insight, don't count an old dog out, especially one who enjoys sunglasses as much as his owner.