Thursday, March 06, 2008

On Pins and Needles

I hate going to the doctor. But really, who does? Going to the doctor produces nothing but bad news and heavy feelings of worry. If we haven't received bad news yet, feelings of anxiety are just as bad as we wait on impending results of tests.

In case you can't tell, there's a lot of cynicism coming from me about doctors, and the medical field altogether.

I personally hate going to my doctor, because as far as I can remember, every time I do, I somehow somehow always need to get a needle. I mean, I like her as a person and doctor, but I somehow have a "GIVE HER A NEEDLE" written across my forehead. If it's not a booster shot, it's an immunization. If it's not an immunization, it's a blood test. WTF. I secretly think they 'talk' me into doing blood tests because they don't think it's fair that I hog my blood and refuse to donate voluntarily. Ha.

And in case you really can't tell, I absolutely hate getting needles. I recall the last time they tried to give me one and I screamed and screamed until my mother finally had to carry me out, probably mortified as she walked through the waiting room with a chicken shit of a child.

My doctor recently recommended I get a blood test done, especially since I haven't been to the doctors in ages, and it's about due time I 'donate' blood. I really didn't want to, but I figured if I didn't, it would be on my permanent medical record that I am difficult and contact Public Health or something. Whatever. I could've easily just said no (hey, who's going to force me?) but there is a part of me that is curious if there's anything internally wrong with me, aside from the emotional and karma part.

I guess it was good timing that I had to do this now, because I really feel like since I'm already feeling like I'm in the shits, there might as well be more piles of shit piled on me now because it doesn't make a difference. Nothing worse (at least for me) can be worse than having to go through this whole situation at all.

The day before I went to the lab, I psyched myself out about getting the needle. I give myself tons of papercuts everyday at work, and they hurt like a bitch, how much more can a needle hurt? Saying stuff like that to myself was probably not a good idea, because as soon as I got there and I was put in Room #1, and instantly I wanted to run.

I don't know what I would have done if Vicki and Peter didn't come with me. Peter waited in the Waiting Room but I made Vicki come in with me. I needed someone to tell me what to do. I needed someone to sit me down and not let me move until it was done. I needed someone to bring the doctor back into the room after I pissed her off with "bullshit anxiety" and refusal to go through with it. Most of all, I just needed someone. It sounds really tacky, but having to get that needle has never made me feel more alone. Weird, eh?

The saddest part was that there was a little girl waiting to get her shot done too, and apparently I had freaked her out a little because she (and everyone else) could hear my ranting from the Waiting Room. It took 20 minutes before I finally let the nurse do her thing. I made Vicki distract me with interesting gossip. I swear, I was letting Vicki distract me. but it didn't work. I still knew what was going on on my left arm, and I felt every second of it. Ugh. Anyway, it took me like 5 minutes to recover after it was done and still bitch about the needle and guess what? That little girl even left before I finished ranting and left the office. She was in and out and I was still in the lab bitching. I'm such a wuss.

In any case, it's done and over with. And now, it's probably the worst time for anyone after having bloodwork done: the wait for the results.

To be continued.

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