WARNING: If you are the least bit squeamish, stop reading now...
Okay... If anyone is left, I'm going to tell you about today's blood test.
I went to my doctor last week, my regular check for my cholesterol medication. Because I haven't been losing much weight, the office called me on Friday and asked me to get my blood tested for Diabetes.
"Oh fun!" I think to myself. That marvelous disease that untreated can rob you of your eyesight, make healing harder, and sometimes cost you a part of your body is a possibility for me!!! A friend of mine, with long-term diabetes just lost a foot. My step-grandmother's brother lost his legs bit by bit, starting with toes, then feet, then below the shin, then mid-thigh, then groin. He died shortly thereafter. My father-in-law has diabetes. He takes insulin daily and his skin is mottled by bruises. Yup. Diabetes - the glamorous disesase.
I was sick on Monday, so this morning I went by my doctor's office for paperwork, then to the lab for the blood draw.
They got me in quickly, sat me down in one of those chairs with long armrests and wrapped a rubber tourniquet around my left arm (that one being the best on me for getting blood out of). I clenched and unclenched my fist to raise a vein and the nurse palpatated the crook of my elbow to get just the right spot. She inserted the needle and blood shot to the back of the tube... then stopped. Very strange. So she poked around looking for another spot. Nothing. More poking (this is poking using the the needle IN MY ARM). More nothing. One more try for a smallish vein way over on the side (we are still in the initial hole!). Eureka!!!! Then the armrest broke off the chair. The needle came out and blood gushed everywhere. She slapped a cotton ball and tape on it right quick, quietly swearing mild swear words (Crap, crap, oh crap!) under her breath. She apologized profusely for the language, the chair, and not getting my blood.
So we tried the other arm. Nothing. Not even a blush of red in the needle. I clenched and unclenched furiously. Nothing. After much poking around, which included hitting a couple of nerves that HURT, she pulled the needle out again and looked at me. "Where you keeping all your blood, girl? 'Cause it sure ain't in yo' arms!" I stopped clenching and a nice vein popped up on the back of my hand. "Can you use that?" "Do you mind?" "Heck no, just poke me somewhere you can get blood out of me!"
The needle went in and it still took two stabs to get it. I must have roll-y veins. But we finally got our tiny vial of blood. She stuck cotton and tape at all the needle sites and I looked a little like a straight-jacketed bunny rabbit. And felt like a pin-cushion.
My arms are still sore. Tomorrow I will look like a junkie. I don't know when the test results will be back.