I Vant to Drink Your Blood

To say that I become a tad stressed at the prospect of getting blood drawn is something of an understatement. After years of having people dig in my arms repeatedly only to have not even the tiniest amount of blood trickle out, I'm a little, um, anxious about it. So, I was a tad concerned, shall we say, about Friday's four blood draws. I was not all that concerned about the no eating or drinking after midnight mandate, however (and I was wrong about that one, oh, so wrong). The husband and I took a wonderful indulgence to get there (cab) with my unopened heating pad under my arm (I'd read that heat can help!) and I sat, unable to read, until I could see the phlebotomist. Needless to say, the phlebotomist laughed at my heating pad. And, she was fantastic. She did not have to do multiple pokes each time - she got it on the first draw. And she told me that I wasn't a difficult draw - but that other "phlebotomists" may be, essentially, idiots. Nice. It was also met with some amusement by the husband when I was brought to the front of the line each hour on the hour because the timing was essential for the test. I really thought there might be a throw down. People don't, apparently, like it when others are moved to the front of the line for blood draws. Personally, I could care less - I can put it off a few more minutes? Sounds great. One woman started to throw a little fit about it (her husband was having the blood drawn) and the calm, cool, collected phlebotomist explained that my test was timed and her husband would just have to wait. The funny thing is that it didn't appear that any of these people had actually been waiting all that long - they just did not like someone cutting in front of them. What I did not expect, however, was the cold sweat I developed while waiting for our lunch at a great place called Good Health. I felt, wretched. Not eating or drinking for hours, having a fasting blood draw, consuming a repulsive cola flavored "drink" and then having blood drawn every hour on the hour, apparently can render one a tad ill. I felt more normal after eating but WOW, yuck. Anyway, I'm really, really, really hoping that I do not have this. It makes me quite worried about the bambino, who, by the way, has started moving around in there something fierce. I've told a few people how at times, his movements feel so weird, so odd, that I have to get up and move around in the hopes that they will cease. Most people look at me like I've lost my mind - you know, wow, this one isn't very maternal, is she? But sometimes the movement is so bizarre that it, frankly, weirds me out. But for the most part, I do love it. I love hanging with him. The first time I told someone that sometimes I find his movements a bit unsettling, he barely moved for a very long time. So, lesson learned, watch what you say in front of the kids.