Une Fleure Fanée

Week 14 Part 1 (Sunday)

     This is it. If only I hadn't acted so cold throughout the bus ride, maybe I wouldn't be here. I close my eyes in fear. You failed, Lilliana! Failure! Failure! Failure! The nurse seems concerned, moving the blocks around.

     "That's funny, it says you're 51.2 pounds. Something has to be wrong with this. I'm going to have to go off your most recent weigh-in, I guess. Mom?" the nurse asks.

     "80.2 pounds, I believe," Mom answers, and we're put into a nearby room.

     "I hate this," I cry softly.

     "Listen, I'm going to be frank. The moms and I did some research, and aside from your stomach bug you probably have, I think you may have anemia, or low iron in your blood," Mom informs me.

     Through sobs of pain, I ask, "I have metal in my blood?"

     "Yeah, but if it's too low, you can feel dizzy, weak, and cold. I want to make sure you're healthy enough to dance, so we're going to test for iron levels. Do you want some crayons to draw on the parchment paper?" Mom asks.

     "Mom, I'm in too much pain to grab something other than a trash can," I retort, and a humongous headache hits me, and I sob more.

     Right then, the doctor comes in, and she greets me, but I can't really do the same considering I'm in a ball against the back of the wall.

     "Hey, sweetheart. Not feeling well, eh?" the doctor asks, and I look at her like, "How dare you ask such a ridiculous question?"

     "So Mom, you say you want to check for low iron levels, is that correct?" the doctor confirms.

     "Alright, so Lilliana, how are you feeling today?" the doctor asks.

     "Lilly," I correct her, not wanting to hear that name again for the rest of my eternity.

     "Okay then. So Lilly, how are you feeling today?" the doctor asks again.

     "I have a headache, my stomach feels like it's rupturing from my stomach, I'm extremely cold, my hair is weak and falling out, I feel like I'm either going to throw up or pass out and can barely lift a feather to save my life," is what I want to say, but instead of that, I respond, "Icky."

     "Yeah, I've felt icky too. So, I'm going to take your vitals before we begin, okay, sweetie?" the doctor informs me, and I nod, slowly unfurling.

     The doctor uses the stethoscope to check my heart rate. Then she makes me take some deep breaths, and I have to swallow bile. After, she uses the blood pressure cuff and then steps away from me.

     "She does have a little bit of a lower heart rate and blood pressure than we'd like to see in her. Before we get to bloodwork, can you tell me if she has eaten anything in the last 8-12 hours?" the doctor asks Mom.

     "No," Mom answers.

     "Does she take any medications?"

     "Fluoxetine, Cymbalta, and this morning she took Venlafaxine."

     "And does she have a history of any heart issues, issues with blood pressure, diabetes, eating disorders, anything like that?"

     "She did have bulimia from age seven to nine," Mom answers, and I hang my head in shame.

     "Well, seeing that you're ten now, it seems that you've recovered. I'm proud of you. We're going to go ahead and order her a basic blood test to check for iron levels. A phlebotomist will be with you two shortly," the doctor informs us, and now we're back to waiting.