Dear Secret Blogiary,
Sometimes it is okay to just be melancholy and nostalgic. Sometimes one just needs to indulge in an emotion that is not befitting the occasion. It happens. And if I choose to curl up in a fetal position on my and cry until I dry heave my brains out, well, just let me. And for Pete’s sake, don’t coddle me. And if my fit should coincide with a specific day of birth and run into a monthly problem, I swear it will go away on its own.
I don’t need my blood let or my brain trepanned. I certainly don’t need medicine. So please, please, please Big Sis and Little Miss, please stop worrying. Yes, I know that you have been trained to “watch out” for me. I know that your Daddy and Grandma have taught you signs to look for in case my one serious medical condition should surface again. But clots have nothing to do with tears.
I know you worry, but I am the grown-up (most of the time) and I promise that I will hie myself to the doctor should anything be really wrong.