Bad Mix of the Day

I'm a fainter.  That is to say, I am no stranger to the invigorating aroma of a fine smelling salt. I first passed out on a sixth grade field trip to the Virginia Military Institute museum. It was so hot and musty down there. One minute, I was looking at a bunch of muskets and the next I was staring up into the face of a few VMI cadets. (Incidentally, while I as "out" I dreamt that I was on contestants' row in the Price is Right.) They rushed me off to the doctor because I had split open my chin on the button of my jean jacket when I fell.  When I got back to school later that day, my friends informed me that many of them had heard the sound of my 98-pound body crumpling to the floor and thought that Stonewall Jackson's horse had fallen over.

I don't remember passing out again until I was in high school and learned how to make myself pass out.  It's one of a small list of stupid things I did to get the attention of a boy I liked who was a known "bad boy" to my "goody two shoes". I wouldn't drink alcohol with him, but I would go on a tubing trip in a lightning storm, and I would also willingly cut off oxygen flow to my brain to pass out. Have you done this before? One person bends over and essentially hyperventilates. They stand up straight and another person (in my case, Mr. Bad Boy) presses in on your sternum and ... there it is.  You forget the next 6-10 seconds. I did that a number of times.  At a party, in drivers ed class...  Stupid stupid stupid.

Anyway, passing out didn't become one of my "things" until I started having to have blood drawn for various reasons.  I can't even count the number of times I've sat down to give blood and woken up to a room with many more people in it than I had remembered.  All circling around me saying things like "Here she is." "It's OK, sweetie." and "Cancel the ambulance!" Finally, I learned my lesson to go in to the situation asking to lie down before anything sharp gets unwrapped or any vials displayed.  Even still, I was lying down to get my tetanus and a few other shots before graduate school when that old familiar ringing in my ears started and I found myself, once again surrounded by a room full of panicked nurses waving smelling salts. I had passed out while lying down. Practically unheard of.

So, I guess I hate needles.  It's why I had my first two children without epidurals. In childbirth class, I sat stalwart through the "natural childbirth" video, but had to go out and lie on the couch in the hall when they showed a woman getting the epidural stuck in her back. Oh, there's also the time in college when I was holding my friend's hand while she got her upper ear pierced at the mall.  She was the one getting the needle, and I'm the one who had to sit down and have a soda brought to me.  Incidentally, I pierced my own nose when I was in China. With a needle. But again, I think there was a bit of the "cute boy protection factor" at play there.  That's another story, perhaps for another time.

Alright, so we've established that I don't like needles and that I'm a fainter.  Since having children, I've gotten better.  When Ella was born, you used to have to get your blood taken nearly every visit for the first few months.  I can't remember why, but it toughened me up a bit. So, I've fallen out of practice with the lying down request and have taken to simply asking the blood drawer (excuse me, the phlebotomist) to tell me stories while he/she does the deed. It helps take my mind off of it, and usually works alright.  

Which brings me to today.  I had to get some blood taken, and I thought it wouldn't be a big deal, so I take all three kids with me.  Two in a stroller and Ella walking alongside. When I turned in the orders from my doctor, the man at the desk looked at it. And looked at it. And then called someone else over to look at it. I overheard him saying, "Is this right? I thought they didn't do these tests together anymore because it involved taking too much blood." (Gulp.) The other woman said, "Not that I know of.  I think it's right." Then, the man said, "OK, I thought they said not to do this anymore because you won't have any blood left, but she says it's alright." (He does not know who he's talking to.) I ask, "Seriously, will I have any blood left? Because I'm a bit..." (I trail off, not wanting to say the word "fainter" for fear of bringing that whole persona back on myself.)

Anyway, he hands me back the paperword, and I kid you not, says "Go to the lab and put these in the red box on the counter.  It's red like blooooooooooood." I mean, he draws it out like that.  Like, every man on the street, is comfortable with making a joke out of getting what he has just described as "too much blood" taken.  I fake smile and fake laugh and take the folder.

This story is going to feel anticlimactic to you, but I'm going to keep telling it.  I turn in my folder. They call my name. I push the stroller back to a small room (I'm not lying when I say I'm getting a little short of breath just thinking about it) with 5 or 6 stalls divided by short walls.  Each stall has a rolly chair in front of it and behind the stalls are 2 or 3 women, who clearly hate their jobs by the way they fake welcome people and bark at them to sit down and roll up their sleeves. The room is not smelling good. It's kind of dark. Asher's begging to get out. Ella's trying to tell everyone in the room that her birthday is November 19th.  I'm hoping I can add another tick mark to my number of blood draw success stories.

I decide I'll use Ella to help me.  I'll tell her to come hold my hand. Instead, she's looking over into the next stall while another man gets his blood taken.  She squints up her face as she watches and says, "Owie! Owie! Owie!" The man laughs and I tell her to get back over here.  Then she looks at me and says, "I'm glad I'm not you, Mom!"

As the woman wraps that rubber strap around my arm and tells me to make a fist, I ask Ella to tell me a story. She begins, "OK, once upon a time [I feel the cool of the alcohol swab on my arm], there was a girl named..." I feel the prick of the needle. Ella stops her story and I see her face stretch into an expression that reminds me of Edvard Munch's the Scream. I know what she's seeing and I ask her to keep telling me the story.  She can't.  She's frozen.  Which makes me feel anxious. Which makes me feel light-headed. I'm wondering how many vials she's seeing get filled with my bright red blood (excuse me, I mean my bright red blooooooooooood).  Ella says "Ooooooooooh." I say, "It's OK, honey. Just keep telling me the story.  Mommy needs to hear your story." And then... that's it. It's over. I ask the woman if it's OK if I put my head on the counter. I didn't faint, but I knew that standing up right away wouldn't be a good idea. I waited a few minutes and then we left with Ella repeating over and over to each person in the parking lot, "Mommy got a boo-boo." (She's into baby talk lately.)

You thought I was going to say I fainted, huh?  I know, it's an anti-climactic story, but still... it needed to be told. Because maybe other people can learn from my experience that children cannot be counted upon to distract the weakly constituted.  Next time, I'm loading up my stroller with smelling salts.