My next stop of the day was my doctor's appointment. I had time to breathe and calm down for the 30 minute commute in traffic. I used positive self-talk to get myself back up and running in a good mental state. By the time I got to the hospital, I had forgotten about the painful passport issue and I was determined to get in and out of my appointment and to work on time. First stop was to get my blood drawn. Long story short, I've never been a fan of needles and I've been known to get dizzy at even the sight. But, after all of the needles and exams that I had to go through in my recent pregnancy, I was fearless. I walked into the lab with my sleeve rolled up and confident that this would be a cake walk compared to labor. It wasn't. I started to get dizzy and the tech reclined the seat and gave me water. She made me sit for a couple of minutes and when I felt okay, I was free to go. I thought I felt okay. I got up and marched down the hall toward the elevators determined to "breathe it off," and head to my next appointment. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor drenched in sweat and being propped up by some very kind nurses. I was so embarrassed. I must mention that I was at a VA hospital where most of the patients are older men, several in wheelchairs most of who have faced combat and a life that I cannot even begin to fathom. And here I am, this little blonde girl passing out over a tiny vile of blood and making a scene in the hallway. Yet they were all so kind to me, rolling by in their wheelchairs with consoling smiles and scruffy beards as I was getting wheeled to urgent care. I'm sure they were thinking "what a baby," underneath those kind smiles. After my blood pressure got back to normal and I had a normal EKG, I was cleared to go. So, while my day started out somewhat crummy, I must say that the kind hospital staff made me become a believer in the lucky number 13 again. After all, my sweet little princess was born on the date.