I don’t like hospitals. This has never been a problem before, because then I was just visiting somebody else who had health issues. It’s a bit different when you’re the one there, doing paperwork and getting tests done a couple days before you’re under the knife. (See post regarding upcoming tonsillectomy)
prick of the needle I think, “Hmm, a glob of blood on my arm. Wonderful.” The first test they pricked me to see how long it takes me to stop bleeding. I’m certain it wouldn’t have taken more than a few minutes, but the nurse stopped the test because she thought I looked close to passing out. Those nurses have good intuition. I didn’t pass out, but I felt foggy and detached. Not gone, but wishing I didn’t have to remember where I was.
She said, “It’s just in the mind.”
“Yeah, I know”, I replied. My mind thinks, “Heh, if only it were that easy.”
After a trip to the bathroom in an attempt to relax, I came back and took my seat. Some more useless banter occurred. “Can we talk about something other than blood?” I asked the other woman who came over and talked to me while the original nurse prepared to suck my blood out. We talked about music and The White Stripes for a few seconds and then it was done. It’s funny, but it’s a lot easier to tell when the needle goes in than when it gets out. The pain is still there for a while when it comes out, so you don’t notice its absence.
The good news is, I received four Spider-Man stickers for surviving.