So apparently I'm a sponge.
But not the good kind.
Instead of soaking in beauty and peace and happiness and tranquility, I seem to be sucking in everybody's bad juju and trying to make it my own and fix it.
(Without going into details...I seem to get out of my lane here at dialysis and assume the role of confidant, therapist, advisor, and sounding board for my fellow pod mates, the techs, nurses, and janitorial staff. I don't have the ability to say "Gee, I'm so sorry to hear that, but I've got problems of my own, pal." Instead, I pat pat the complaintant gently and say "Here...let me fix it all for you by obsessing about all of your problems and return everybody to the land of giggles and rainbows.")
Yeah.
I gotta stop doing that.
Your problems, though, are welcome. What little gas I've got left in the tank is all yours, Dearies! Where shall we go on our next adventure?
I'm all hooked up and stitching happily away. (I did, however, play possum a moment ago when the Nurse Practioner came by. She stresses the bejeebers outta me, so I pretended to be sleeping.) I've got Enya in the headphones today and am determined to have an incident free treatment. The sun is shining, I've got my pink fuzzies on, and there is the promise of Chinese food for dinner!
Come tell me all about your corner of the world...is it swell?
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