If you like me even a little bit, please do not read any further.
I must express the following, because I’m an expresser, but it will disturb and irritate you.
BUT if you made it this far, please call the cops if I don’t blog tomorrow. My husband is ready to kill me.
Today, I visited the phlebotomist. And it’s important to know that in addition to my flying, insect and mayonnaise phobias, I am phlebotophobic as well.
In layman’s terms, I do not like having my blood drawn. In fact, I do not like anything sharp or probing ANY where near my nooks, crannies or cavities. I especially hate probing in my crannies. And if the probe is needlely, I hate that the worst.
Let me bring home this point: I birthed both my daughters UNMEDICATED only because I preferred to not have needles near my person. Or in the room. If I were Queen, I would have outlawed all needles within town limits. Also, the world. There’s so many medical advancements these days. Certainly, researchers can work on a technology that draws blood without actually drawing the blood? Like with mind control? (I truly don’t even know what I mean by that.) (You’re not still here, right?)
I did find one phlebotomist that I liked. And I followed her across town to every lab where she ever worked because she used “butterfly” needles on me (the kind babies get) and didn’t poke right in my elbow nook. I totally have an elbow nook thing. Please do not touch me there. (Anyone calling the OCD police yet?) Anyway, she got me, you know? Really got me.
I did notice she’s not there anymore. And left no forwarding address. So, there’s that.
Now there’s a new guy, and after dragging my butt into the lab from another county, I resigned myself to a new phlebotomist. And he could tell I was nervous, with my floor pacing and hand wringing, so he asked if I were OK, and I said, “Shut up. Where’s the other lady?”
And he said, “She left town.”
And I said, “Find her.”
And he said, ” “.
And I said, “What’s with you anyway? What’s your thing with mucous?”
And he’s all, “That’s a Phlegmologist.”
And then I’m like, “Fine. Why are you obsessed with gnat butts?”
And he said, “That’s a Flea Bottomist.”
By this time, I could tell my distraction method was NOT working and it was getting late.
So I toyed with the idea of losing my marbles, then eventually let him do his unholy thing.
And I guess it wasn’t too bad.
Cycle of my life: Freak out unnecessarily, wipe egg from face, rinse, repeat.
Please tell me you people have all left by now.
I still here. Maybe that makes us The Neuroses Sisters.
Nope. Still here ; )
Still here, and laughing all the way. Glad it wasn’t so bad.
So, what’s with the mayonnaise thing?
omg, i love you and i am DYING laughing! i am SO not one to freak out when it comes to much – let alone a phlebotomist with a needle – but i completely understand where you’re coming from. and, the fact that you KNOW that you’re being ridiculous – even though it’s after the fact – makes me love you even more and want to have your babies.
ahem.
i thought childbirth cured you of needle neuroses. what better cure than having needles poking in your back while you’re naked and experiencing contractions? i’m telling you, you’ve really missed out. and now you’re still neurotic. maybe you should have another baby.
Let me bring home this point: I birthed both my daughters UNMEDICATED only because I preferred to not have needles near my person
Gah! Are you kidding me? You had pitocen and went unmedicated? Yikes. I only went unmedicated once and that was not by choice. (all 4 of mine were pitocinized)
You are a strong woman!
*I was gonna tag ya, but then you were going thru the medical stuff and I didn’t wanna bug ya. :)
I am still here too. You are so funny. I have issues with blood too, so you didn’t scare me. I just handle it differently. I am more of a control freak who eventually passes out when visiting the lab.
Bahahah *snort* I don’t mean to laugh…I get it, I do. I used to be just like that (until I had to give myself a shot every day). You are hysterical!