What Makes You Think I’m Brave?
It’s happened many times over, and again yesterday. I just don’t understand it, really. Some less-intimate friend or acquaintance catches me poking my finger to draw blood, and/or screwing a needle onto my insulin pen and stabbing myself in the stomach, and points out how very brave I am. What did you say?!
One certainly can find many colorful adjectives to describe me, but “brave” is not one of them. I am certifiably as Chicken-Shit…