Precious Bodily Fluids

March 25, 2010 at 11:23 pm (Mental illness)

Yesterday would have been so much easier if I was a heroin addict.

Since I’m still sick (as evinced by the way I stopped taking nausea pills and immediately felt bad again) I went to the doctor – again – and he let me know my second giardia test also came up negative. I always thought it was a little odd that I’d get giardia on the one Indonesian trip in which I DIDN’T drink any water.

After a brief discussion of my bowel movements, he set me up for a variety of other tests. On 8 April I’ll have an ultrasound and X-ray (both of my belly) – confirming my notion that this is all just a giant sympathetic pregnancy (so much so that, despite being perfectly regular in my cycle, I’ve done four pregnancy tests. . . just to be sure).

The first tests were blood tests, which I could do right away.

Or could I?

I briefly remembered my disastrous attempt to donate blood, but since I’ve successfully had my blood tested before, I wasn’t especially concerned. Not rationally.

Unfortunately, my body doesn’t answer to the rational part of me – just the wacky, insane part. So my blood simply wouldn’t flow.

I have been blood-tested before by the exact woman who repeatedly stuck me this time with no success. Eventually she gave up and sent me to another medical centre. By then I was bleeding in three places (two on my hand, one on my elbow).

Since repeated failure, another person’s professional embarrasment, and my own pain and bleeding isn’t conducive to relieving my blood’s pathological shyness, I called in the big guns: food. chocolate. husband.

My husband and I ate an enormous lunch at Black Pepper cafe in Belconnen, and I drank vast amounts (which is what you do before donating blood – it makes it flow better), then we bought a ridiculous quantity of junk food, plus a Wendy’s choc mint shake for me to sip in the room.

My husband gave me a neck massage as we waited, and literally held my hand as the lady tied a cord around my upper arm (switching arms every so often), and pushed and poked and prodded various veins. She made an actual attempt at my other elbow, which also failed. Then she passed me on to her more experienced counterpart.

The experienced counterpart squished my arm for a bit and then got a “baby needle” and used that – successfully.

After 4.5 hours, three medical professionals, a husband, $50 of food, and five injections, I was able to go home and have a lie down.

I bet it’s lupus.


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