Thursday, July 28, 2011
I know that's not my usual positive outlook on things. But I hate when they take my blood. I always call it "taking my blood" because I never willingly give my blood. I have a phobia as a result of poor treatment during a test as a child. That probably also serves into my fear of doctors and tests. However I had to go to the doctor because I was out of my prescriptions and was feeling sick. I had completely run out of my Topirimate which I take for nausea, vertigo and migraines. I was also out of Amitryptaline which I take for sleep. So I've not been sleeping well and I've been nauseated for almost a week, living on Sprite and saltines, throw in the occasional nausea medication. Not a good diet. However I've also been having some abdominal and stomach pain. So they wanted blood. Of course, they did. This is a new doctor. They always want blood. Doesn't matter that my blood is perfect, no one ever finds anything wrong with it except anemia. I attribute this success to the fact that I try to keep my blood inside my body. Now I'm not trying to advocate against the donation of blood for saving lives. I admire and applaud those that do. However, I can't. I didn't even do it when my mom had breast cancer. I know, I'm a horrible daughter. But she actually released me of the obligation so I don't feel so guilty. Until I tell someone. So anyway, back to the doctor visit. In comes the phlebotomyst. I warn her that my veins are small and deep requiring a butterfly needle. And don't dig or I'll vomit. Hang on, let me lie down. OK, maybe that doesn't instill much courage in the poor girl, but I feel it's best to warn them ahead of time what they are up against. The first arm gave her one vial and just started the second vial before I started to clot. I ask, "How many vials do you need?" Four. "FOUR?" She's running a lot of test. The second arm gives her the rest of the second vial and starts the third. She says "You are a challenge," she will try my hand but if that doesn't work she will have to send me out. You know, out, as in another whole facility. Where all they do is draw blood. So I ask if they can still use the blood that they've already gotten. She hesitantly replies, "well, yes, but they like to keep it together." I tell her to keep going. I would rather her have to go to the other hand also and get it all than to have to start all over at another facility. And to be honest, I'm thinking I probably won't show up for about a week anyway and they seem to want this stuff pretty soon. But I would need time to recover physical, mentally and emotionally, you know? But the hand gives her the last of the third vial and all of the fourth. Yay! I walk out looking like a mummy with bandages wrapped around both arms and one hand. I make my follow up appointment for Friday afternoon and I have my instructions to go get an ultrasound of my abdomen. They think it might be my gall bladder. Great! That just means a hospital with an i.v. and everybody gets to see me naked.