Blood Work Sucks!

My endocrinologist appointment last Tuesday went great. My A1C was 6.9%, even better than I had thought. I felt happy that so much of my hard work had paid off - Diabetes was hard work, and it felt good to know that despite the turning down unhealthy things, the 3 bruises currently on my body from insulin needles, and the worry about expenses, that my health was doing well. It was nice to see all of my old Doctors, too - they'd always been special to me, being my Doctors since I had first been diagnosed. Paula wrote up paperwork for blood work for me to get done, and I groaned as I took it from her, saying goodbye to everyone before leaving the office. I drove to Quest Labs down the street from Princeton in Winter Park, and walked inside the reception room as I had done back in December. I filled out the paperwork. "Have you been fasting?" The woman at the reception desk asked me. "I...well, no," I told her, stating that I hadn't been asked to fast last time. "Well, I'm just telling you, you have to fast for 10 hours before getting your blood tested. Most people fast overnight and come in the morning." Knowing I was in for an unpleasant experience, I left the office disappointed that I couldn't get my blood work done with right away.

The next morning I woke up, feeling unusually ravenous. My stomach was empty - I groaned inwardly as i remembered I had to go get my blood work done. I entertained daydreams of saving it for another day, of getting breakfast, but I wanted to get it over with, So I rolled out of bed, pulled my hair back and changed into a pair of sweatpants. Mom drove me to the Quest Labs in Apopka, which as chance would have it I saw while driving by yesterday had just recently opened. We found the office on the third story and walked inside the tiny room, and I handed the woman my license and Amerigroup insurance card - conscience of how soon the card would be useless, and how soon the woman would be asking for a debit card and not an insurance card. I sat down and waited until a kind looking woman called my name from the door. I gulped and followed her around the corner to a short hallway, and she had me sit in a chair. I showed her my usual vein, and she tied a band around my arm. I took a deep breath as she grabbed a needle, tubing and a few vials from the dresser to my side. "I hate this part," I told her in a shaky voice. I dealt with needles every day, yet pathetically enough, I still dreaded blood work. But this was my third time since having Diabetes that I'd gotten it done, and despite my reservations I knew I cold handle it. I closed my eyes and turned away, thinking of other things as best I could. I felt the pinch, and the needle was in. I felt slight discomfort, but it wasn't so bad.

The blood didn't come out of my arm easily, and the woman tilted my arm. I still looked away, not liking to look at it. The feeling that came upon me was sudden and swift. One moment I felt fine, and then I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "I don't... feel so good..." I told her, leaning back, giving anything to be away from there just now.

I shifted again. "Do you feel like you are going to pass out?" She asked me. "No, I feel like I'm going to throw up!" I told her frantically, starting to heave. I glanced towards the trash can, and she grabbed it, handing it to me to hold with my free hand. I heaved and heaved again, but my empty stomach allowed for nothing to throw up. I choked up bile and spit it out, leaning back and wiping my hair away from my face. I was drenched in sweat, my whole body shaking. My mom showed up in the hallway. "She's diabetic and they told her to fast," she told the woman. Another older lady strode in. "Just take the needle out, we have enough", she said, coming up to me. I didn't even notice the needle being removed. I just sat there, motionless, breathing in and out heavily. "Get her some juice, the one I have in the fridge". She told the other woman. "She's Diabetic, she needs sugar. Let's get some color back in her." "I'm sorry," I repeated over and over to whoever would listen. "It's alright, the younger woman said when she returned with a small container of juice. I thought you were just afraid because of the needle." I laughed. "No, I haven't eaten in hours." I drank the juice slowly, still feeling poorly. I was allowed to leave a few minutes later, feeling better, but drained, from my experience.

No matter how many times you've had it done, bloodwork sucks!