Vampire Soda Shoppe

You know, I’ve put up with a lot for this pregnancy.  Loss of bladder control.  Fat redistribution.  Hormonal swings. 

But probably the most unpleasant aspect I’ve undergone so far has been all the blood work I’ve had to do.  I don’t like getting stuck with needles, anyway (I mean, who does?) but the frequency of the bloodlettings is getting to be a lot.

Earlier this week, I arrived at my lab appointment.  I had two tests that they needed to run, one of which was a glucose test and the other tested my liver.  I had taken the liver test some time ago, only to be told that my results were “borderline”.  The result of which meant, aside from the fact that I would get Madonna’s song “Borderline” stuck in my head every time I mentioned it, that I would have to take it again.

The last time I took it I had to fast over night, but since my appointment was for the middle of the day, my doctor advised against going without eating for so long.  Still, I had just a light breakfast and avoided anything sugary, as was advised prior to taking the glucose test.

So there I sat, waiting to be called into the second room.  As I waited, I noticed a constant, high-pitched beeping noise.  It seemed to be emanating from the elevators just outside the waiting room.  I tried to ignore it, but its consistent beeping was beginning to needle into my brain.  (Ugh, needles.)  I hoped the next room was soundproof.

When at last I was called, I walked into the room and noticed the beeping was as loud as it was outside.  As the nurse got my information, I couldn’t help but ask, “That beeping must be driving you nuts, huh?”

All of a sudden, her demeanor relaxed a bit.  “Ugh, yes.  It’s the responsibility of the people upstairs, but they haven’t done anything yet,” she shrugged. 

“Man, that’s gotta be rough.  Sitting here all day and listening to that,” I offered.

“Yeah.  I swear I hear it even when I go home,” she chuckled.  I chuckled too, I guess hoping this bridge of comradery somehow meant she wasn’t going to hurt me with the needle.  As if she was going to say, “You know, we don’t normally do this, but since you seem like a nice person, why don’t you just spit into this cup?  We can get all the information we need by your mucus and saliva levels.”

Alas, no such luck.  Instead, she turned around and went to a small fridge propped up on the counter.

“Ok, you get to choose which flavor you want to drink for the glucose test.  We have orange or lemon-lime.”

“Lemon-lime!” I said, almost too excitedly.  I mean this was for a reportedly nasty-tasting liquid, not a Slurpee.  I guess I was excited that I got to choose my own flavor.

“Ok,” she said handing me the ice-cold bottle.  “Now, you are going to drink all of this and then let me know as soon as you are done so I can set the timer.  We have to wait for one hour before we can take your blood,” she said.  “And you want to drink it fast,” she added as she motioned for me to go into a smaller room.

So, I recalled my old college days and just chugged the small bottle.  Fortunately, the cold (and awesome zing of lemon-lime flavor!) masked whatever nastiness it held.  When it was all gone, and I had a second to analyze what exactly it tasted like, I determined it was reminiscent of one of those squeeze ice-pops that had just melted.

And then I played the waiting game.  I began playing with my phone to pass the time, and I noticed my hands becoming a little shaky and my heart racing.  Hmm, I thought, the sugar must be starting to hit my bloodstream.  And since this is the first sugar I’ve had all day, it’s feeling pretty potent.   I tried to ignore my jitters and went back to scrolling through Facebook.

By minute 45, I was becoming restless.  I had gotten as far as I could with Facebook and began to see posts I had already looked at.  I didn’t feel like playing any games (and what would be the point when my hands already felt shaky), and none of the two magazine options in the room seemed appealing.  Not to mention, I was still hearing that constant infuriating beeping.  I was nearing the end of my rope, until finally, the timer went off.

Another phlebotomist came forward and led me into yet another small room to get my blood sample.  As she was getting everything ready, I suddenly began to feel my stomach growling angrily.  It was now nearly past the time I usually eat lunch and my stomach was not letting me forget it.  I tried to ignore it, but it began to morph into a combination of nerves and hunger.  I couldn’t wait for this to be over.

She tied a strap tightly around my arm, looking for the vein.  The anticipation was killing me.  At last she found one and in a quick move, she was in.  I breathed, glad the initial pinch was over.  Now I just had to get through the throbbing pain that remained as she drained my blood.

Almost immediately, I began to feel dizzy.  I closed my eyes to steady myself, as the phlebotomist began trying to chat with me about my pregnancy.

“So how far along are you?” she asked cheerfully.

“Mhmmhm…about…7 months,” I muttered, feeling the blood rushing to my ears.

“Oh wow, I can’t believe you made it through the summer,” she chuckled.

“Mmmhmmm,” I breathed, my head now feeling both heavy as lead and light as a feather.  Dear God, I’m going to pass out, I thought.  Finally, she asked me if I was ok.

“I just…feel…like I’m going to pass out,” I sighed, my head feeling swirly.  I began to see a kaleidoscope of orange and black triangles intersecting and then explode into circles.

“Ok, but do you think you can just hang on?  We have just one more vial to fill,” she said anxiously.

I think I nodded yes and after I waited a few more dizzying seconds she finally patched me up.  I was still feeling loopy and sick, so she blasted the fan on my face and put a cool pack on the back of my neck.  I sat there for a few seconds waiting for the triangles to disappear completely.

“Feeling any better?” she asked.

“Yes, I think so,” I said, enjoying the coolness on my neck and the music video-like fan on my face.  I began to get to my feet and walk to the door.

“We should get those results back soon and if they come back negative, we’ll have to do the three hour long test,” she said, gathering up her things.

I suddenly began to feel dizzy again.  I said fine and thanked her as I walked back out to the infernal beeping waiting room.  It was then I realized that being pregnant, and eventually a mother, really means doing things you don’t want to do, as long as it benefits your kid. 

Even if it means coming back to this vampire’s soda shoppe.

So what was your most unpleasant task or chore you had to do when you were pregnant?