Friday, July 2, 2010

Friday Funny- RATS! It's THAT Time Again.

In honor of my yearly stick-fest, here it is, the story of what happens when I have to have a blood test that requires fasting. Let's hope this year has a much better outcome...

(From 2007)

So I went to have some blood work done on Friday. Nothing serious, just my yearly check up. I'm not much on needles. They tend to make me a little anxious. (UNDERSTATEMENT). Usually, the tech uses those baby butterfly needles and I'm okay. I get through it. I'm not sure what was going on with me on Friday, but I'm sitting in the chair and I'm and she's getting ready to stick me and I start to have a mini panic attack. They've happened a time or two, so I know when I'm really having one. But why over something I know is coming up at least once a year? I even coordinate my doctors so we only have to do this once a year so I don't panic. So I let out a big breath and I said,"You know, this is just silly. It's one stick and you'll be able to get the blood you need. I mean, honestly. You do this all day log and you've been doing it for years and I'm sure you're very good at it, right Sue?"

Sue, the phlebotomist (sp?) looks at me nodding and smiling that little reassuring smile and so I throw out my arms and say,"Aww, just stick me and get it over with."

She sticks me and I'm trying to make small talk while she'd collecting my blood. But the needle is vibrating. Yes. Actually vibrating.I have never felt that before. So I'm having a very hard time trying to go to my little happy place that gets me through being poked with a needle because it feels like I a sitting on a piece of machinery. Truly, my entire body was vibrating. Did Sue happen to hit my vein in some special cosmic area that holds everything together and my body is letting her know it did not appreciate it? I dunno. She had to take more blood than usual, so it seems to be taking forever. Finally she's done. It's about ten AM by now, and I'm really feeling it because I had to fast and I'm one of those people that has to eat a lot of protein and fiber like, every four hours or it just gets ugly. So I look at her and say, " You know, I'm not feeling too good. There's a granola bar in my purse. Could you hand it to me?"

She grabs my purse and says,"Are you okay? Why don't I get you a Sprite."

"Sure," I reply. "That would be nice. I'll be fine."

So I close my eyes to get focused. Mind you, I'm sitting in a chair with a little lap bar holding me in. I'm giving myself a stern talking to . . . "Now Melissa, just get it together. This is not the place to throw up. Your sugar is just low, eat the granola and pull up, sister!"

So I open my eyes and I'm looking at four sets of Birkenstocks and Crocs with a thickly Indian-accented voice yelling,"Can you hear me?! Can you hear me?! Do you have a medical condition?!?!?!?"


Clearly this lady is in a panic and I certainly don't have a clue as to why OR WHO THE HECK SHE IS AND WHY IS SHE YELLING AT ME?

Apparently somewhere between the needle being pulled out and my blood sugar dropping, all of my adrenaline kicked in and out I went. I've always wondered what people thought when they were driving their car and all of a sudden (insert accident) they come to in a hospital with a bunch of monitors and strange faces. Talk about twilight zone.

I can't tell you how embarrassed I was. Passing out over a blood test. Sheesh. What's next, people? I can give birth and raise kids, but a blood test puts me incoherently on the floor.

For sure, next time when they ask me if I want to lay down, I'm taking them up on it. I don't care how wimpy it makes me look!

Yours, thinking those blood test better tell them something after all of that!


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