Hi, it’s Matt here.
I haven’t posted anything for a while but I had to get this
story out there for everyone. I've been
having some minor heath problems lately and my doctor thinks one of my problems
is that I’m insulin resistant. In order
to confirm that I had to go in to the lab and they were going to do a test for
my blood sugar and insulin levels during a controlled sugar spike. So to start off, I had to go without food for
12 hours… ouch. Not too bad, stop eating
at 8:30 pm, don’t eat until after the test.
Seems like it would be easy, in fact I do that once in a while anyways
because my laziness occasionally outweighs my hunger. But when you have to go without food it will always
make you think about the fact that you can’t eat, and you get hungry fast. It’s like me saying okay, stand on one leg and
whatever you do don’t think of a pickle, when you stop thinking of a pickle you
can stop standing on one leg but as soon as you think of a pickle again you have
to stand on just one leg. Try that for
one day and you’ll spend most of that day thinking of a pickle and standing on
one leg. Anyway, enough of the one-legged
pickle hop, and back to food or lack of it.
There I am, 8:30 in the AM and I’m starving, I had just
dropped Beka off at work and I’m walking into the doctor’s office. I go back
for the test and I don’t see what I expect.
They are about to draw blood and I ask what it’s for. They say cholesterol.
I had just had my cholesterol taken Saturday (it was scary bad, don’t ask) so I
say, “hey, I just had my cholesterol taken Saturday” (déjà vu) so I tell the
nurse what I’m supposed to be there for and she sends me back to the front desk. Luckily, I discovered that before they drew
the blood and saved me a poke. Wait on
paperwork for 10 minutes, and then back to the lab! (What horrible writing, no wonder I’m a
mathematician.)
Once back in the lab, they stab my finger for a blood sugar
check, and the nurse tries to squeeze my finger to get more blood, but she can’t
do it. She is squeezing, not the fleshy
part of my finger, but my knuckle. And
she’s not squeezing outward toward the tip, she’s squeezing it sideways. In retrospect I don’t think that way would
draw blood from a punctured transfusion bag let alone my finger. Luckily a drop formed of its own volition and
she had enough to run the test. Then she
draws blood. Now I’m a big guy, I've got
a big build, big arms, and big veins. I
drank a ton of water before I came in there because I knew I needed to get
stuck and I wanted a lot of fluid available to draw. I've had great
phlebotomists before, those that look carefully at the vein, aim the needle,
and gently but quickly insert that needle into the vein. My veins are great for that, huge easily
accessible veins. As she tried to draw
my blood I was reminded of Tom Hanks on a desert isle spearing a fish. But in the movie he hit the fish, she
stabbed, then backed out, then in, then out, then in, then out, and finally
gave up on that arm. Did I mention I’m
afraid of needles. Not just afraid,
painfully panic inducing fear. I've
mostly gotten over that fear and now I just barely tolerate the existence of
those metallic skin piercing menaces. So
on to the other arm still trying to draw blood, and this is just the first
draw, there are still 4 more to go.
After practicing her stringless sowing machine impression on my other
arm she was finally able to get some blood.
I then drank an orange drink that was just flavored sugar water, it wasn't
that bad. If it was chilled it might
have even tasted okay but the lukewarm wannabe tang just wasn't doing it for
me.
Thirty minutes later, an hour later, and hour and a half
later, two hours later, we go through the same routine. I go, like a man condemned, to the
chair. They wrap my arm with a little
rubber strip, unwrap the needle and its READY! STAB! AIM! I could tell the
nurse had the attitude that it was only necessary to get the needle under the
skin near the vein, after that any pain I had to endure for her to find the
vein was part of the process. I didn’t
want to say anything because I feel that it’s a good idea to never upset anyone
holding a sharp object when they already intend to stab you with it. Needless to say, I have some nice bruises on
my arm, and my tolerance of needles is waning. Well, off to bed, good night everyone! J
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