I ended up having to fast for some tests that Dr. Shay scheduled. I went to Labcorp, which somehow has become THE place for all fluid draining from human beings. If it goes in a vial or a cup, they extract it. The one by my house was nice and clean at 6:00 in the morning, and the staff was super friendly.
I have always hated needles.
Not in a scream like a banshee, run around the clinic knocking over wastebaskets sort of hate.
More of a slow, building fear. When I was a kid, I learned, maybe from a movie, about what an air bubble could do in your veins. Horrifying.
So, every time I get punctured, I picture the air bubble forcing into my bloodstream, happily aiming for my heart and brain, and I quietly go insane with fear.
Verbally, I say, “Ah.”
I find “Ah.” to sum up the horror without calling my manhood into question.
The lab technician was a 40-something black woman with a kind smile and tired eyes. After I sat down in the wrong chair (twice), she slapped down the arm bar for the blood drawing seat and began rummaging through piles and piles of empty vials, looking for the ones I needed.
She laid out tube after tube, and my fearwheel began cranking at about 4200 rpm.
We talked about the needle for a bit, her joking about its size, me completely serious, but pretending to joke.
It’s a strange intimacy, when a person straps rubber around your arm, asks you to make a fist, and begins swabbing your skin. I imagine junkies form a bond with one another, the more they inject each other, or even themselves. I wonder that I could ever give myself a shot.
There are people who have this disease that have to inject themselves all the time. My heart goes out to you all, Diabetes Type I brethren and sistren. You guys get a raw deal.
So, I am prepped for stabbing. I look at the clock. It says 6:18:05, analog-style.
I feel a blur on my arm. Like a moth landed there.
I will not look, but in my peripheral vision, I see clear becoming red, as my veins release their (sugary?) scarlet claret. It’s almost pretty, and so I look away again.
6:18:32.
I feel wiggling, as a new vial is added.
6:18:58.
I feel a sickening yaw, as a heavy vial is added.
6:19:30
I believe a small elephant has been stuck onto the needle in my arm. He is VERY dense, and I consider naming him Gimli. It’s the only dwarf name I know, and he has the weight of a white dwarf star.
I am being silly. The needle is out of my arm now. I am amazed at how little pain there was. Has needle-technology advanced? Have I just gotten to be less of a p*ssy?
I stared at my arm’s plunder. They were almost beautiful, but I knew inside each vial was a time bomb. Will this one tell me I have cancer? Will this one confirm heart disease? Will this one confirm what we all already knew, that my testosterone is like, a 2?
We’ll know more soon. I hope diabetes is all I have to deal with.
She asks me if I need to pee.
Was my fear that obvious? No. She hands me a vial. I need to give a urinalysis. Now THIS, I am good at!
More on that later.
Tags: blood, diabetes, draw, Fear, labcorp, needle, tests
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