Thursday, February 26, 2009

One of those days

We are having one of those weather patterns called a wintry mix. The morning was clear and cool, but around noon it clouded over. Since then we have had sleet, snow, freezing rain ...

The forecast has changed several times in the last twenty-four hours: up to an inch of ice! No, make that five to eight inches of snow! No, make that a wintry mix! No, make that all rain! No, make that anybody's guess!

My day started at the Lake Delton Clinic where I had gone in to give blood for lab work. For some reason it took two nurses several tries to get a vein. Two pokes in my left arm and they gave up. Then a poke in my right and she just kept digging around under the skin until it went in. Not particularly painful but not what you want to go through before you've been allowed to eat breakfast or even have a cup of coffee!

With the weather so weird, I called the library to say I was not coming in this afternoon. I don't do icy streets! Charlotte told me to stay home, make a pot of chili and read a book. That's a librarian after my own heart!

1 comment:

Kristin said...

I am so anal about needles.

If you don't get it the first try, that's it. Done. I am filing a complaint with the Federal Medical People That Suck Commission, having Vince burn down your facility, and then not allowing you to ever touch me again.

I am so particular, in fact, that I have one lady I allow draw my blood at our fertility clinic. She knows I love her (she's painless!) and she'll take me if she sees me before anyone else because she knows how I am.

They have 4 nurses there.

1. Angel of the Needle (That would be her.)

2. Needle Nazi- (This psycho mean woman who hates anyone prettier than her. She uses a butcher knife, not a needle.)

3. Muhammed Needle- This is the Indian woman whose OK with a needle but you never know what she's saying behind that thick accent.

4. Revolving Needle- There's always a revolving person you never see again. They must rotate them with other clinics or something.

As you can tell, I am psycho when it comes to needles. I cry, I hyperventilate, I want a blow pop sucker afterwords, and I force Vince to buy me breakfast IF I survive. Keyword: if.

The hardest part of the boob job was the needle. I shook like a leaf and cried like a baby. But because of the IV. Not even the surgery. I had my mom and my sister boo hooing because I was acting like it was the end of the world.

I think I get that from my dad.