It was one of those days....

You know the kind hormones raging, cramps doing the cha-cha in my uterus, and every emotion hitting harder than a K-drama finale. I was trying to keep it together at the hospital, holding back tears like a dam made of caffeine and forced smiles.

But then… it happened.

Someone moved the gauze rolls to the wrong bin, and for some reason, that small act of organizational betrayal just shattered me. I quietly backed away from the nurses’ station and slipped into the supply stockroom like a stealthy, emotionally unstable ninja.

I found a nice, depressing corner between the IV fluids and adult diapers, and I let the tears flow. Ugly crying in full effect. I was dabbing my nose with what may or may not have been sterile packaging when I heard it:

"Uhh… are you okay?"

I whipped around, sniffling and red-eyed, and there was my coworker holding a box of latex gloves and looking at me like I just announced I was quitting to become a llama farmer.

I panicked.

"IT’S JUST… ALLERGIES," I blurted out, gesturing wildly at a box of disinfectant. "I think I’m allergic to… medical-grade plastic. Or maybe it’s… the emotional resonance of alcohol wipes. I don’t know. Jus.....THE SMELL."

She blinked. “Right. Hospital smells can be intense.”

I nodded like I was doing a TED Talk on nonsense. “Very intense. Dangerously aromatic. Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn’t been studied.”

She slowly backed out of the stockroom, still holding her gloves, probably wondering if I needed a psych consult or a hug.

I guess from now no one will ever question my suspiciously long “allergy” breaks in the supply room again. 😐