Saturday
Part two of yesterday's* description of my recent medical screening. The process I endured on Thursday took the form of relay stations, between which I was redeposited in a waiting room. First they took my vitals (pulse, BP, eye color, height and weight, etc.). Then I was asked to click through a computer questionnaire relating to my medical history. Easy: say yes or no to the following statements; but I'm never certain of the proper formulation: "yes, I'm never dizzy" or "no, I'm never dizzy." Next, I was given half of the following directions: two immediate lefts and a right, then down a winding hallway past some elevators; and I was on my own to wander the calming beige hallways of this faceless governmental annex searching for the blood laboooratory. There I spent more time waiting before a technician came to draw my blood. He instructed me to lay on the leatherette recliner and squeeze a rubber thing in my fist. With a fleshy latex strap, he tightly tied-off the arm they'd been crushing for blood pressure readings all day. He started poking around my inner elbow with his finger, puzzled, looking for a place to stick me. "When was the last time you actually drank any water?" he asked. The sensation in my arm faded from agony into oblivion. Eventually he shrugged, "what the hell" he seemed to say, and made ready to stab my arm. Then the fire alarm went off. We looked at each other. The needle froze. Then he released my arm and we both made our way to the nearest exits. I was annoyed at the time, but thirty minutes later I was back in that chair after several trips to the water fountain. Three units of blood were taken with no trouble. [Cavin]
this had happened to Mr. Cavin by 2:54:00 AM
Then, a 5 sided conversation ensued...
Augh! I have monstrous needle issues, and that would've made me more than a little cranky.
When I went off to college I had to have ALL of my shots from before starting kindergarten again (the records of which had been lost during a transfer from a school in West Virginia to North Carolina). Somewhere around the eighth or ninth shot I became very angry and aggressive, and actually threatened the poor person holding the next needle with violence (yes, they were all given in one afternoon).
My then-girlfriend Selena very calmly asked them to leave us alone in the room for a few minutes so she could calm me down. She then proceeded to sweetly and sexily make over me, promising me that she'd more than make it worth my while later if I would just calm down and let them finish.
Needless to say, the final shots were administered. But to this day I seriously HATE needles.
Damn, qemuel that's a pretty sexy story actually. I want someone to offer me sex to deal with needles!
Anyway, Cavin, You are almost through. I am very proud of you. And the fire alarm thing is hilarious. I could visualize the whole moment.
...I want someone to offer me sex to deal with needles!
But probably not the stocky salt-and-pepper roadhouse thug who grimly took my blood. He was very, very good at what he did, but he would have looked more at home strapped into a fringed leather costume instead of his white lab coat.
For future reference, "yes" means "I agree with this statement" and "no" means "I disagree." No worries about double- or single-negatives. Glad you're through this ordeal.
Me too, Nurse P, except I have to get a chest x-ray sometime during this upcoming week. I keep forgetting. It’s okay, though. None of this stuff bothers me half as much as I pretend--it's just invasive more than anything. That and the nerve-making feeling of not knowing just what might be turned up in testing, like feet cancer or whoopee cough or something.
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