Blood Test.

I’ve been silent on here for two days now. Sorry about that. I’ve been feeling so gross. I had Strep Throat a little over a week ago and they put me on antibiotics but somehow over the past few days I’ve been getting sicker and sicker. I woke up this morning with that digusting “I can’t swallow or talk” feeling so I decided to go back to that doctor. They put me on MORE antibiotics and gave me a blood test to see if I have Mono.

I hate blood tests more than just about anything else in the world. Truly. When I was in second grade I had this bizarre disease and for a while they couldn’t figure out what it was. I broke out in this crazy rash all over my body and couldn’t walk. Doctors were so confused and they had to do blood tests all the time. Even now the minute someone mentions such a thing my mind returns to Floyd Medical Center in second grade and I literally shiver with terror.

At the Doctor, I was SO excited when they told me I’d be getting a Z Pack (in the past they’ve worked wonders) but the minute he casually mentioned “we’re also going to test some blood” I got dizzy. He walked out of the room and I started acting like Dorothy on that episode of ‘Golden Girls’ when she doesn’t want to get the surgery. I was alone in the room, genuinely in a state of panic and debating with myself out loud “Tell them no…. the Z Pack will be fine.” or “Tell them you have somewhere to be and you have to do heavy lifting”. I wanted my mom. Then I realized, no- my mom always freaked out just as much as I did…. I wanted a stable, strong person to get me through this…. I then made a mental list of all the stable people I know. I then realized I don’t know that many stable people. Moments later the white haired Mrs. Claus looking nurse came in. She spoke with gorgeous Russian accent.

“I am to give you blood test. And you don’t like that do you?”

I don’t know if she’d seen me squirming as she walked in or had heard my debate with myself from outside the hall.

“It will be fine” she said gesticulating with a needle like a serial killer or over zealoutous executioner.

“Yea. Sorry. I hate this so much and I get really freaked out.”
I was literally rolling around the doctor’s office bed and she hadn’t even walked over to me yet.

“Lets make you comfortable.” She leaned the bed back and started to strap that frightening rubber band on my warm. I was shivering, riling around, generally not sitting still. She was surprised and annoying amused.

“You are a big baby!”

I hate when people use that term because I immediately picture a large fat gay guy in a diaper who’s into shitting himself. Or my Uncle Steve.

“I just really really hate this” I kept whimpering. Tears forming in my eye lids.

I made myself think of things that make me happy. I thought about Odwalla Smoothies…. the Mango Tango kind or that white colored Protein flavor I’ve never tried because it has like 500 calories for a half size and I think…. why would you have 500 calories in a SMOOTHIE. Dairy Queen Tropical Blizzards. Gypsy. Shooting ’30 Rock’ last week. Bacon. The sets for door slamming farces- namely “Rumors” or “Lend Me a Tenor”. Sunshine.

I felt her put the needle in my arm.

The worst part.

I started singing. Not a real song. Something I was making up as I went along.

“Thats good! You can sing if you like! I like singing!” she encouraged.

“What kind of music do you like?” I forced out, sounding like a crazy person on the subway, with my eyes and fist clenched.

“I like rock and roll….”

“Uh huh”

Here’s where she started pandering.

“And Barbara Streisand” (she pronounced it STRAY-SAND)

My face must have brightened cause she giggled and continued.

“I LOVE Barbara Straysand. I loved her since I moved to this country 30 years ago.”

“From where?! From where?!” I begged.

“Russia.”

“I love Russia!” I shouted, far too loud and excited for a guy who’s never been to Russia (I was caught up in the moment of this almost being over)

I was getting ready to ask what her favorite Barbara song was when she took the needle out of my arm.

“ALL DONE!” She shouted.

I opened by eyes.

“Are you okay”

“Yea but I’m probably going to pass out.”

I did.

She ran to get me water, all the while shouting “Don’t pass out on me Jeffery! I’ve been good to you!”

She ran to get a candy. Put it in my mouth. Then poured little sips of water through my lips. I must admit I really liked the pampering. She asked if I’d had breakfast. I hadn’t. So she went to the other room and brought me a Cookie Dough Balance Bar. I ate it and drank another glass of water, while the Nurse and Doctor told me how good I was and how pale I looked. You’re not getting up for a while they told me.

I sat there sipping my water and eating my delicious Balance Bar and thought how much of a “big baby” I really am. But I’m kinda totally okay with that. I really hate getting my blood taken.

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6 Comments on “Blood Test.”

  1. Elijiah Says:

    hahahahahahahaa oh my gosh i love this story. my friend read this when it was on my computer screen and thought i wrote it. …it’s something i would do.

  2. James Says:

    wow….some people would be too embarrassed to admit that. but it’s all good. we all have something that frightens us to no end. if we were friends, and i was there, i would’ve held your hand while you were getting it.

  3. IAWrangler Says:

    It was the antibiotics that made you misspell Barbra Streisand’s first name, right? Otherwise, we’ll have to revoke your gay card for at least one weekend.

  4. shaneeeerryiipip Says:

    aww.
    you’re so cute 🙂
    i actually like needles and getting shots and blood drawn :/
    i kinida kinda pain.
    but not horrible pain
    i just like the sting 😀

  5. nino Says:

    I love this story. Kind of reminded me of a guy who came into the ER where I work. He also fainted. But then again, he was like 12… haha
    Your style of writing stories reminds me a lot of david sedaris. Just love it.

  6. Jonathan Says:

    Honey, never get Mono in China. Let me tell ya, they love blood tests here as much as they like noodles, and they f****n love noodles.

    The thing about Chinese hospitals and blood tests is that they do everything cheap and on top of that there are 1.4 billion people here so there is a line for everything, including blood tests. After you pay, some over-worked over-stressed doctor looks at you and tells you to get a blood test. You then take the Chinese-scrawled note to the blood test line, which is filled with 40 year old men with lung cancer and babies crying their eye sockets out.

    Once you get to the front of the line some sour young woman who has a 12 hour shift grabs your hand and proceeds to massage the blood in one of your fingers to the fingertip, so that you now have a fingertip like a clowns engorged nose. Then she takes a small razor blade from a pack of 2,000 just sitting out in the open and you begin to freak out. You try and pull your hand away, but the nurse is like some Xena princess or something and you can’t do anything. Then she raises the razor blade high above her head with a careless look in her eyes, ready to stab your poor finger. The moment comes with a piercing pain that makes you pine for overpriced American health care and your mommy. The nurse looks at you in the eyes for the first time and snorts a short angry laugh while you whimper with pain. She then massages your finger again so that the blood pools in one big bubble of blood so she can suck it up with a dropper for testing. Afterward you get a Q-tip to hold back the blood, not even a band-aid, and they hand you the results. Some young petrified kid takes your space as you walk back past the line of smoking men with lung cancer. The doctor says the results are inconclusive and you need to go back for another blood test right after you spend 4 hours in the hallway getting various fluids pumped into your hand (the Chinese believe IVs are better than taking medicine orally so hospital visits are often 12 hours long even for simple ailments) as you watch some poor woman vomit over and over and over again. It begins to dawn on you that this is your life now and suddenly those days spent puking your guts out as a kid watching the Monica Lewinsky hearings while your friends are at school sound like heaven.

    I lived like that for a week, three blood tests everyday. I had Mono, but (little known fact) China has almost no mononucleosis so they never bother to check for it. Instead they tell me I have (in this order): an infected heart, strep throat, infected lungs, TB, and finally (with a bang) HIV. I get filled with every antibiotic in the world and live out feverish nightmares and am unable to eat anything but McDonald’s milkshakes. In the end an American doctor saves me.

    The moral of the story is: be thankful for what you have. At least you can have a conversation with the American nurses to block out the pain (I suggest politics) and they of course know what they are doing, too. Also, don’t have one night stands with German-Chinese men wearing Liza hats in Hong Kong. Germany definitely has Mono.


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