It started off like any other day (except that I had to set my alarm clock…). Jeff and Nathan dropped me off at the GO Station near the house and off I went to PMH for a blood transfusion. There had been some discussion on whether Jeff and Nathan should come with me, but it really wasn’t a big deal, so I suggested that they stay at home.

Since I took an Express Train to Union Station, it was standing room only on the GO train and I expected that. I stood close to the doors and held on to the rails for balance. As the train was nearing Union Station I started to notice that the train was moving around in ways that it shouldn’t and that my temperature was rising. I hoped with all my might that I wouldn’t faint right there on the train.

I didn’t realize that this would be the least of my worries.

I crouched down so that if I did faint, at least I wouldn’t hurt myself on the fall down. Big thanks to the kind woman who noticed all of this and asked if I would like to sit down. And seeing as I am learning to accept help when it is offered, I thought sitting down might be a good idea. As the train pulled into the station, this same kind woman asked if I would be okay getting to my destination. I (foolishly…) admitted that I would be fine (hindsight is so much clearer…) and I waited for all the passengers to exit the train. Off I went to follow the pack of busy people down the stairs, through the station. I could feel the room starting to spin, my temperature rising again and I just hoped that I wouldn’t lose my breakfast on the people in front of me. I didn’t.

So, I found a washroom (when you travel so often with a baby/toddler, you tend to know where most of the washrooms are) and thought I was fine. I wasn’t. I sat down in the middle of Union Station (on a chair, but I wouldn’t have put it past me to just sit right down on the middle of the floor if I needed to…) and looked around. For somebody. Anybody. There was nobody but a pack of busy people rushing to work. Not a friendly face in the crowd. So, I called Jeff and told him the room was spinning and I thought I was going to pass out. Then I hung up the phone, found myself a garbage can (trustingly leaving all my stuff behind me… but remember the crowd wasn’t aware of what was going on around them…) and… well… there’s no nice way of saying it… threw up my breakfast.

Humiliating to say the least.

Until again, I noticed that no one was watching. It was as though the crowds had seen all manners of strange behaviour before and watching a woman throw up her breakfast into a garbage can was just common for a Wednesday morning. I thought someone might have offered me a bottle of water. I sure could have used one. I thought someone might ask if I needed help and find a Union Station worker or… something.

Nothing at all.

So, I packed up my stuff, (after all, I was feeling much better now and the room seemed to have stopped spinning) and went on to the next leg of my journey, the TTC (subway). And I arrived at my destination without fanfare or any trouble.

Except for the part where I had called my husband earlier AND FORGOT TO CALL HIM BACK TO SAY THAT I WAS OKAY! Ooops. Big oversight on my part. Apparently the trip from Union Station to Queen’s Park (four station stops) is a long time to wait and wonder what has happened to your wife. I don’t plan on throwing up at Union Station again, but if I do, and I call Jeff, I’ll remember to call him back next time. Promise.

After that adventure, the blood transfusion was all downhill. The IV was put in on the first poke and that is always a treat. I learned that AB+ is the most rare blood type (so if you’re reading this and you have AB+/- blood… get out there and donate today. Or if you have O- blood which is universal… get out there too. In fact, if you have blood running through your veins… donate. Try it once. You’ll save a life. Literally… off my bandwagon for now…) I slept through the transfusion and came home rested and ready to go.

Back to the TTC and, knowing that I was cutting it close to catch the GO Train, I got on the wrong subway. Seriously. Once I realized my mistake, I quickly turned around and got myself headed in the right direction. And, reaching Union Station (determined to keep my insides, inside) I just barely made the train.

Back home with my family. Ready for a CT scan tomorrow… with fewer adventures I hope.