I met an angel yesterday.

I had a doctor’s appointment that left me feeling nervous, anxious, stressed out, and I just wanted to get it over with.

I really wished there was a way (read: “I wish it was socially acceptable”) to have a cocktail beforehand, but I didn’t end up imbibing. At some point during those twelve needle pokes, I joked about such liquid delights with my doctor. He said that some people have actually done that very thing; I told him I was concerned it might be a bad idea. He laughed. I took that as a green light to engage in such shenanigans if there’s a “next time” to this whole ordeal.

My blood pressure was taken before the appointment. Normal.

After the appointment, they took it again. Incredibly elevated. I sat for a while.

I felt like my stomach was in my throat. I felt like I wanted to pass out. Had I passed out with my stomach in my throat, however, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to breathe. So I stayed coherent.

I walked to the elevator and entered when it arrived at my floor; a nurse was already inside. All the floor buttons — both those above and below us — were lit up; I was even more confused in my already confused state.

“Are you heading down to the lobby?” I asked her.

“Yes, and I have no idea why they’re all lit up,” she said with a laugh. At least it wasn’t just me.

As we got to the lobby and walked outside, she asked what I was being seen for; I gave her the uber-topline version. She must’ve seen something in my eyes, because as we stepped out into the sun, she paused and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Well, don’t worry unless there’s a reason to worry. And there’s no reason right now.”

I said thank you to her, and told her she was right. I wanted to cry — mostly from nerves — but there was also a good bit of pain in the mix, as well.

If you’d have taken my blood pressue the moment after she said that, though, I’m sure it would’ve been markedly lower. I saw her while I was exiting the parking garage to head home. In case you’re wondering, angels drive black Kia Souls.

Arriving back at my casa, I poured a hefty and stiff gin and tonic, and tried to find decompression mode. It was a clumsy search, but I finally found it in between Biography and OWN.

Today, for angels and cocktails, I am thankful.