This morning I went to the doctor to find out why I've been having so many annoying health issues recently. Back-to-back kidney infections, a systemic yeast infection, abdominal issues, acid reflux, extreme fatigue, unexplained weight gain, and very dry skin, among other things. I couldn't ignore them anymore (my fear started to get the better of me), so I made an appointment with Dr. Bryant. He did a very thorough exam, asked me a ton of questions, and drew about half the blood in my body. Actually, it was 6 vials, but it sure felt like a lot as I watched it draining out of me, into those tubes. He suspects hypothyroidism (underactive thyroid), and possibly some food intolerances. It will be a few days before I know. I hope he's right. After losing my mom to cancer, the "C-word" is never far from my mind (or my nightmares).
Anyhoo, this morning as I sat in the chair watching the nurse prepare the needle and blood storage tubes,Snapper began to freak out. Pepper watched the whole process in fascination, his little face right there next to where the nurse was working. Snapper hid behind my chair. I kissed Pepper and told him not to touch Mommy while the nurse was working. I didn't need to worry--he was mesmerized. And all of a sudden, I recalled a memory I had completely forgotten. I had a miscarriage when Pepper was a toddler. For 2 weeks I had to go to the lab every other day for a blood draw to check and make sure my hcg levels were dropping normally. The first time, I had 16-month-old Snapper with me. I sat down in the lab chair, placed her on my left knee, and put my right arm out on the counter for the blood draw. Snapper watched in horror as the phlebotomist poked me once, then twice, and a third time with no luck. Right as he prepared to poke me the fourth time,Snapper tensed up, and before I knew it, she wiggled out of my grasp. She was up on the counter before I could grab her. With a mighty swing of the fist, she slugged that phlebotomist square in the chest and screamed, "You no poke-uh my Mommy!" I was too shocked and embarrassed to even speak. And then the woman in the chair next to me began to laugh. Then the other waiting patients began to laugh. The other two phlebotomists joined in, followed by the one Snapper had slugged. Snapper sat there on the counter in tears, and I was mortified. When I realized that everyone in the room was laughing, I was able to join in. The phlebotomist was very gracious, even insisting he thought Snapper's reaction was funny.
I'm just glad the needle wasn't already in when Snapper pulled her stunt. I'm glad she hid behind my chair today. And I'm even happier that Pepper currently has no such aversion to needles.