Going for bloodwork

[LittleBill 2,231]

My next checkup with the surgeon’s office is looming upon me. I think this time I will get to see the Surgeon Himself. I am not sure exactly why. Perhaps he wants to admire his handiwork, as evidenced by my smaller, but slightly more wrinkled body. He is a nice enough guy, but I get the impression he is constantly preoccupied.

In preparation for this particular appointment, I was sent to the lab to have blood extracted for testing. This is always fun, as I don’t get to eat anything, drink anything (except a bunch of Water to make it easier for all involved when it comes to puncturing my hide accurately), and there is always a line.

When my turn finally arrived, I was ushered to the Chair. I know it is supposed to make me comfortable, and give my arm physical support for the deed itself. I’m not even afraid of needles. But I always feel like I am about to be strapped in and hooked up to electrodes. Maybe my imagination is too vivid. Maybe one of these days, I’ll settle in and the lady will grin evilly, and whip those electrodes out! You never know!

After installing me in the chair, she proceeded with the paperwork. With the way our medical system is, you can’t even bleed without filling out papers first. She tapped away on the computer for a few minutes, asked me some questions, and then the printer started. They have a couple of printers. One is for full, 8 1/2” x 11” sheets of paper for the receipts. Because we all need giant receipts, right? But the other one is the special printer. It is the one that prints out the labels they affix to each little tube of my essence, my life’s blood.

Well, she turned that little printer on, and it started churning out labels like it was printing confetti for the next ticker tape parade! My eyes were getting wider and wider as the strip curled over the front and started for the floor.

“Are all those for tubes!?!”, I asked, with just a hint of alarm creeping into my voice?

“Yep!… Just about”, she replied.

“I hope there’s enough in there. I still need to drive home, you know.”

She just laughed a little and told me not to worry. The next thing I knew, the needle was in my arm. This lady is a regular Dracula when it comes to that. She is very good. Usually the “filling process” goes quickly. Today I felt like I was at the gas pump along with everyone else. You know how the pump slows down every time someone else squeezes that trigger? That was how my blood was oozing out into these tubes. And they kept coming. I think she had to go to the supply closet for more.

She said, “Do you know they’re testing you for zinc?”

“No! I don’t know WHAT they’re testing me for, except that I asked for my HVAC level to be checked.” They were cool with that. “Why would they want to know if I have zinc in my system? Lead, I can understand. I handle lead on a regular basis.”

She had no idea. I thought about it for a moment and said, “Maybe since they are testing me for everything else, they decided they might as well throw in the kitchen zinc.”

“Oh, hee hee hee, that’s a good one. You’re funny!”

I thought it might be the last joke I ever made. I watched as she started wiggling the vials, tapping them, and doing all the little tricks one does when the flow begins to slow. I had visions of my vision blacking out. I literally thought she was going to have to squeeze me to get the last few drops she needed. I’ve been having some low blood pressure issues, after all. But finally, she removed the last vile vial, and plucked the needle from my arm. The stick point didn’t even bleed. I checked my bandage later on, and there was not a spot. I think I am down about a quart right now. That would explain this overwhelming urge I have to go bite someone on the neck.

Edited December 20, 2016 by LittleBill

[gryffen 176]

Sounds like my issue, in 2014 I needed blood transfusions as my haemoglobin was down at 40 (average is 150 lol). No idea how or why but got treated and diagnosed with B12 anemia and started on those injections. All the while the doctor didn't know I was pregnant (trust me a shock as pcos was told we would never!).

Anyway - our GP nurse is like dracula, my veins are deep and squigly and not fun to get - last time she had to use a butterly needle on my neck for 9 vials of the good stuff - ate a huge steak that night and still needed another transfusion

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[Mindy78 372]

My next checkup with the surgeon’s office is looming upon me. I think this time I will get to see the Surgeon Himself. I am not sure exactly why. Perhaps he wants to admire his handiwork, as evidenced by my smaller, but slightly more wrinkled body. He is a nice enough guy, but I get the impression he is constantly preoccupied.

In preparation for this particular appointment, I was sent to the lab to have blood extracted for testing. This is always fun, as I don’t get to eat anything, drink anything (except a bunch of Water to make it easier for all involved when it comes to puncturing my hide accurately), and there is always a line.

When my turn finally arrived, I was ushered to the Chair. I know it is supposed to make me comfortable, and give my arm physical support for the deed itself. I’m not even afraid of needles. But I always feel like I am about to be strapped in and hooked up to electrodes. Maybe my imagination is too vivid. Maybe one of these days, I’ll settle in and the lady will grin evilly, and whip those electrodes out! You never know!

After installing me in the chair, she proceeded with the paperwork. With the way our medical system is, you can’t even bleed without filling out papers first. She tapped away on the computer for a few minutes, asked me some questions, and then the printer started. They have a couple of printers. One is for full, 8 1/2” x 11” sheets of paper for the receipts. Because we all need giant receipts, right? But the other one is the special printer. It is the one that prints out the labels they affix to each little tube of my essence, my life’s blood.

Well, she turned that little printer on, and it started churning out labels like it was printing confetti for the next ticker tape parade! My eyes were getting wider and wider as the strip curled over the front and started for the floor.

“Are all those for tubes!?!”, I asked, with just a hint of alarm creeping into my voice?

“Yep!… Just about”, she replied.

“I hope there’s enough in there. I still need to drive home, you know.”

She just laughed a little and told me not to worry. The next thing I knew, the needle was in my arm. This lady is a regular Dracula when it comes to that. She is very good. Usually the “filling process” goes quickly. Today I felt like I was at the gas pump along with everyone else. You know how the pump slows down every time someone else squeezes that trigger? That was how my blood was oozing out into these tubes. And they kept coming. I think she had to go to the supply closet for more.

She said, “Do you know they’re testing you for zinc?”

“No! I don’t know WHAT they’re testing me for, except that I asked for my HVAC level to be checked.” They were cool with that. “Why would they want to know if I have zinc in my system? Lead, I can understand. I handle lead on a regular basis.”

She had no idea. I thought about it for a moment and said, “Maybe since they are testing me for everything else, they decided they might as well throw in the kitchen zinc.”

“Oh, hee hee hee, that’s a good one. You’re funny!”

I thought it might be the last joke I ever made. I watched as she started wiggling the vials, tapping them, and doing all the little tricks one does when the flow begins to slow. I had visions of my vision blacking out. I literally thought she was going to have to squeeze me to get the last few drops she needed. I’ve been having some low blood pressure issues, after all. But finally, she removed the last vile vial, and plucked the needle from my arm. The stick point didn’t even bleed. I checked my bandage later on, and there was not a spot. I think I am down about a quart right now. That would explain this overwhelming urge I have to go bite someone on the neck.

I love this story

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