"Ow!” I yelped as another needle was poked into my arm. This was the fifth vial of blood to be filled and the second time I’d been stuck by the doctors at IASA today. I winced away initially, but steeled myself to keep from squirming under the doctor’s sure hands.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Alvarado said soothingly. “I know these aren’t the smallest needles. We’re almost done.” My hand felt chilled as blood rushed into the small tube instead of to my anxious fingers. I saw them twitch involuntarily. He pulled the fifth vial away, swirled it once, and set it down on the counter next to the other four, then swiftly pushed a sixth one into the fifth’s place. “Last one.” He smiled. I smiled too.

“So, Dr. Alvarado,” I tried to say nonchalantly, but it came out through gritted teeth, “when you aren’t stealing away life blood from unsuspecting teens, what do you do with IASA?” I already knew the answer, but I needed to distract myself from the demanding tingle in my arm.

Dr. Alvarado looked taken aback for a minute. Life blood was probably a little too harsh of a term. He bounced back quickly.

“Well, I oversee all of our astronaut’s health to make sure their time in space isn’t causing too much physical strain. I also keep track of their personal logs, and review them each month with my own team of psychiatrists. Mental health is just as important as physical wellbeing.”

“Wait, you READ the crew’s personal logs?” I was shocked. It made sense, and the astronauts were obviously aware, but it seemed so intimate.
The physician chuckled and said, “Yes, I know. But we really do take their mental status into great consideration. If a crew member starts sliding down the ‘I feel so disconnected from my family’ or ‘I am so tired of the people on this station’ slopes, we know they either need to speak with one of our experts or we need to arrange for them to come home. It’s normal to read about all of the drama on the station though, and we try to give them as much privacy as possible. There are two specialists who read all of the logs. They get the whole picture of what’s happening, but they aren’t as close to each of the crew.” Dr. Alvarado busied his hands arranging the vials in the vial racks, facing all of the labels the same way. “That’s why each crew member also has one psychiatrist who reads their assigned crew’s logs in depth, and provides personalized counseling if needed. You have to remember that these astronauts, and now you, are going to be essentially isolated from everyone they’ve ever loved and everything that they grew up knowing - gravity, skies, mom’s snacks in the afternoon…”

His voice trailed off and grey storminess crossed his composure. Did the flash of sadness I felt hit my face? Was I on the verge of crying and not knowing it?

“I’m sorry, Dr. Alvarado,” a nurse said, pushing his face through the cracked glass door. “CAPCOM is asking for you, when you are finished here. I’ll take the blood samples up to the lab for you.” The nurse looked at me, smiled cordially, and took the rack of my blood in perfectly lined rows under his arm.

The door closed quietly behind him. I could hear my heart in my ears.

“I know your family history. I didn’t mean to bring anything painful up,” Dr. Alvarado said softly. He patted my hand, still limp on the staging platform. Color was coming back to it.

I shrugged and said, “It’s been a long time, doctor. I’m used to slip ups from people. Mom would have wanted me to keep living life without stepping carefully around her, so that’s what I try to do.” I smiled genuinely and the doctor brightened back up.

The remainder of the visit, I was handed off to the nurse that had informed Dr. Alvarado that CAPCOM needed him. The nurse’s name was Jeff Mann and he was the most enthusiastic person about food I’ve ever met. I happened to mention working at the ice cream shop, and he grabbed that and ran with it. We continued with my physical, treadmills, bikes, strength tests, and all the while I had a constant background of food talk.

I quickly discovered that I could make a comment about a combination of foods that I thought was interesting (raspberry and blood orange, for example), or something I disliked and I wouldn’t have to do much talking at all while I was actually testing on the equipment. It was a good balance and I generally enjoyed being with Jeff for most of the rest of the day.