Firstly.. MY MY! I wake up and I have FIVE new followers! WELCOME! Thanks for joining me here :)
Well after a horrible nights unsleep the alarm woke us up at 6am. My son was having a typical Aspergers morning and nothing was right in his eyes, even his weetbix was too soggy. Half asleep we all managed to feed, and clothe ourselves and then pile grumpily into the car. Then battled for an hour and a half through peek hour traffic. I arrived at the hospital with half an hour to spare. They know me pretty well now so Paul, the lovely nurse, takes me straight in to check my eyes and put the drops that make me look like ET in. I make sure I tell him what a traumatic experience I had last time, and he is very sympathetic. Like I wasn’t fishing for sympathy or anything.... J
Anyway he tells me that the doctor putting in the cannula today is experienced. In walks this young thing that looks old enough to put over my knee and spank. (‘Twas tempting, he WAS a cutie). I shoot a worried look at Paul “Are you sure he’s not a trainee?”
“Do I look that young do I?” asks Doogie Howser.
I am not convinced but let him at it anyway. He pokes and prods and slaps my arm to find the vein, and decides he is going for the “big one” inside my elbow. He pushes the needle in and so far it’s ok. Until he starts jiggling it round.
“Hmm” Doogie says.
Hmm..? Why Hmm..? that doesn’t sound promising.
Poke poke...
“Opps! These big veins bleed a bit”
OK. A bit. Not too bad then. I take a look (As I’ve had my eyes squeezed shut) A BIT?!?!
There is dark red blood all over the cannula, pooled in the bend of my arm, all over Doogies gloved hands, running down my arm and spreading outwards on the protective sheet , on the pillow I have my arm resting on and a spot on my grey slacks. WTF? Did I totally just squirt blood everywhere or what?
Poor Doogie is now trying to hold the line in my arm, while mopping up the blood, while trying to open one of those sticky plasters they use to hold the cannula down.
“Do you want me to hold something?” I ask, secretly amused at his floundering attempts to look professional.
“No it’s ok”
Dang, now he gets my blood all over the table, and he has to wipe that up as well. Hehee...
He wipes my arm with a wet cloth and the irony smell of blood hits my nostrils. BLECK!!! (No I didn’t vomit, that’s what I thought)
He then kind of just leaves me. With my arm still with dried blood on it. Ok.... I go out to the waiting room a bit frazzled. I don’t even have time to get my iPod out when lovely Paul is herding me into the photo room. Low and behold the insanely expensive camera is still working. They take a few shots and then inject in the dye. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and not in a good way. Also a little like I want to hurl, and hot. Like sweaty hot. The flashes from the camera don’t worry me at all in the left eye (Can’t see them) but they are painfully bright in the right eye.
All finished, we wait to see if I die instantly, which doesn’t happen, so Paul takes out the cannula, clicking his tongue at all the blood on me. He wipes it all off and sticks the cotton bud over the wound. I’m all done so I head off for the loo and do my INSANELY EXPENSIVE FLURO YELLOW PEE! Which, I may add takes a bit of flushing to get rid of. LOL!
8 hours later:
It’s STILL yellow!! J
I have an appointment soon to discuss the results. But the doctor who took the photo said that it looks like I have what they were suspecting I had at the very beginning of all this.
“which is?” I ask
“Blahdeblah Blahdittybla Blahbla.” He answers.
“Oh” I nod knowingly
Yeah. I have no idea. I will wait till the appointment and get them to write it down.
Oh and I still look like ET...
or the cat doing his cute look on Shrek...
Phoneee Hooomeee....
