Hi everyone! Hope yesterday’s post didn’t totally bum you out. And thanks ever so for all the comments, y’all are sweet as a biscuit, the whole lot of ya.
But it’s another day, and another round of silliness that is my life, so snuggle in for another installment of Actual Conversation Theater!!!
Today’s Actual Conversation took place at the hospital lab, where I had to get some routine blood work done. Now don’t worry, there are no pictures, and I’ll try to keep the squirmy-bloody stuff to an absolute minimum for all you delicate flowers out there. Okay, ready? Remember, this ACTUALLY HAPPENED, except for the parts I made up.
Me: *grumbling to self* Frackin fricking 7:00 in the frickin’ morning cold and IS THAT SNOW??? Paying for parking what a hose job, you know I should have just walked dammit dammit dammit.
Do paperwork. Very boring. SKIPPING AHEAD!!!
Me: *to self* Holy crap, I certainly hope that they don’t ask me to take this hoodie off, for I am lacking in the shirt department today. Also the bra department. Damn, am I even wearing PANTS??? Oh good. Pants. And shoes! And they match! I’m doing VERY well, actually. Good for me.
Lab Tech: Hi there! Come on in! Here’s a med student, would you mind if she took your blood this morning?
Me: Huh? *assesses med student. Looks squirrelly. Suspicious at best. Ah, why the hell not.* Sure! Why the heeeeeeeee…heck not! Have at me! My veins are a little crappy though, just to let you know.
Med Student: *looks ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED*
Me: Okay, so, well, OW, that’s your finger you’re tying to me with the tourniquet thingie, I’ll make a fist, there’s the vein, yeah, it’s small but it should be fine, hey, is your hand…shaking?
At this point I should have BOLTED from the room, as I do not want any more body piercings, 12 are enough, thanks, but as I look worriedly at the REAL lab tech, who is starting to look doubtful herself, I start to reassess the whole "sure let the med student do it" thing as I suddenly feel…
Needle: BLAMMO! Whoa, I am NOT in the vein.
Me: That’s not in the vein.
Lab Tech: That’s not in the vein.
Med Student: *whimpers*
So she tries again. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand again. And at this point I’m thinking while she’s at this, maybe just stick some ink on it and give me another tattoo, since this is clearly getting NOWHERE NEAR where it’s supposed to go, and my veins are like, RUNNING AWAY from the crazy lady, and I’m frozen in a rictus of horror, and my blood is all "Oh HELL TO THE NO, We’re NOT COMING OUT."
Needle: So…Any plans for the holidays? You know, cause at this point, we’ll still be here on Christmas.
I look pleadingly at the lab tech, who is trying to tell the med student to…okay, I’ll skip the details, but she’s trying to tell her how to do it, and I’M trying to tell her how to do it, and the needle is all "I’ll just do this myself, thanks" and everyone is in a jolly old clusterfuck when finally…
Med Student: I CAN’T DO IT YOU DO IT I CAN’T DO IT I’M SORRY!
Lab Tech: Oh no you did NOT just freak out in my lab.
Me: Can we do this without The Needle being in my arm? Still? Still doing nothing? But being…pokey?
Needle: You’re looking very pretty this morning. Let’s get comfortable, baby. The X-Ray machine told me you’re not wearing a bra, you saucy minx.
Lab Tech: MOVE.
The Med Student FLEES. I get my blood drawn by the one person in all of this who actually knew what she was doing, and I’m sure dresses herself like a big girl with a bra and shirt and everything in the morning and doesn’t write missives about having a dangerous liaison with medical equipment hardly EVER, and I went home.
Arm: OW! OW! I hurt! Ow!!! Oh the mean lady STABBED ME!!! Look, I have track marks. Track marks! We look like a heroin addict! We never even ever DID heroin! Happy frackin’ soberversary, dude, here’s some NEEDLE TRACKS! You suck. We’re never going to the lab first thing in the morning ever again. Get me some orange juice, I’ve lost too much blood here to think properly.
Me: You know what’s funny about this?
Arm: What, that you’re totally going to write about it on the internet?
Me: You betcha.