Adventures in Glucose Testing

Yesterday was THE DREADED GLUCOSE TEST.

Except, it wasn’t bad. Not even a little bit. Let me ‘splain.

….No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

I got there and waited for a while for my appointment. Luckily, at my doctor’s office I almost never have to wait more than 10 minutes to go back. They called me, I peed in the cup and they took my weight. I’ve gained 22 pounds so far which I’m not particularly thrilled about, but I suppose it’s not that terrible, either. Let’s just say that I’m not going to get through this pregnancy without hitting 200 pounds.

My blood pressure is good; 125/71. I waited a few minutes in the room for the doctor, and when she came back she looked over my chart and said everything looked good, including my glucose. There was a little confusion as I hadn’t taken my glucose test yet. We discovered that the nurse had inserted the wrong thing into my chart. Awesome! It happens, I guess. No harm, no foul.

She listed to baby girl’s heartbeat, which was strong, loud, and fast. Music to mommy’s ears. She measured my belly, rapped on it a few times and then went off to retrieve my delicious glucose beverage. She asked me which flavor I preferred and I said whichever one was the least heinous. I actually used the word ‘heinous’. She shrugged and looked at me and I said, “Just give me the fruit punch.”

She came back with the bottle and I eyed it. The enemy I’d been dreading for weeks. I opened the top, and took my first sip.
It tasted like Kool Aid. Nowhere near the disgusting, sugary concoction I was anticipating. I said, “Oh. That’s not bad at all.” and my doctor agreed. She told me I had 5 minutes to drink it and started looking at her watch. I downed the entire thing in less than a minute and a half, and chalked it up to all the drinking I did in my younger years. Thanks, tequila shots!

After that, I got to get a Rhogam shot. Nurse Karen prepared my Rhogam shot and told me that it was to be given in my left hip. By left hip, she meant my ass. She told me the needle was very small and wouldn’t hurt much, but that the medicine would sting. As she came toward my butt with the needle I braced myself, wincing in anticipation of the pain. I felt a tiny sting as the needle pushed through my skin, and then a slight pinching sensation as she injected the medicine. I stood tense, waiting for a burning searing pain that never came. Before I knew it she was putting a Band-Aid over my tushy. I looked over my shoulder as I pulled up my pants.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“That’s it.” she confirmed.

Oh. Well then.

Then I got to wait for an hour. I sat in the waiting room. I wandered around the gift shop. I longingly eyed the Hershey’s bars in the gift shop. I passed by the snack bar and sighed at the sight of all the candy that was forbidden for me to eat. I eventually made my way back into the office and back into the lab. The woman who was there wasn’t my normal phlebotomist, but someone I didn’t recognize. I eyed her warily and told her I was there to get my blood drawn for my glucose. She told me to take a seat without looking at me and continued with her paperwork. After a few silent minutes she finally turned around to acknowledge me. She pulled out empty vials, told me to roll up my sleeves and to make a fist. She tightened the rubber-band thing around my arm and I looked the other way. I don’t have a problem getting my blood drawn; I just don’t like to look.

Now, here is where I get a little ranty. I now realize that the woman who normally takes my blood (whose name eludes me at the time, so I will call her Nurse Made of Awesome) is actually an angel sent from heaven. She is perfect and can do no wrong. The fill-in nurse, as she explained to me she was, is the opposite. Lucky me, I happened to book my doctor’s appointment on the day that NURSE STABBINGTON was on duty. Awesome.

So, Nurse Stabbington takes out the needle and inserts it into my arm. For the first time ever, I flinched and thought, OUCH. A few moments later, I felt more tugging, pulling, AND PAIN. NEVER in my two years of visiting this doctor’s office has getting blood drawn caused me PHYSICAL PAIN. Nurse Stabbington sighed, and started asking me questions about my pregnancy. I sat and answered her politely, gritting my teeth and beginning to sweat a little. What the hell was she doing in there, DIGGING FOR GOLD? BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE GOLD IN MY VEINS. I HAVE BLOOD IN MY VEINS. PLEASE TAKE MY BLOOD, AND GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ARM.
She begins complaining about my vein.
“Your vein is being very stubborn.”
Now, what I wanted to say was, “BITCH, THE PROBLEM AIN’T MY VEIN, IT’S THAT DAMN JACKHAMMER YOU HAVE IN MY ARM AND THE FACT THAT YOU ARE QUITE OBVIOUSLY TAKING OUT YOUR FRUSTRATIONS WITH YOUR LIFE ON ME.”
What I said was, “Ha ha ha.”
She continued to search in vain (HA HA. GET IT? IN VAIN.), and poke and prod. I must have made some kind of wincing motion or noise because she halfheartedly asked, “You ok?”
*DIGDIGDIGSTAB*
“Fine,” I said while screaming silently in my head.
FINALLY, she was able to get to my damn vein and began collecting my blood. She then started lamenting on how difficult my vein was, and how every time she pushed the needle in, it moved away. I wanted to yell at her that Nurse Made of Awesome NEVER had a problem finding my damn vein and that maybe she should go back to school, but I sat quietly and patiently, waiting for her to take her torture device out of my arm.

I said my goodbyes to Nurse Stabbington and silently wished for her to develop some form of explosive diarrhea, or some other uncomfortable yet non life-threatening ailment.

My arm is STILL STORE.

So that was my adventure during my appointment. The only bad part was the blood draw. I won’t know for a few days if I passed or flunked my glucose test, but I am hoping I pass. My next appointment is in two weeks… We’ve now graduated to every other week doctor’s appointments. It’s getting closer…. So much closer, it’s crazy! Keep your fingers crossed for me that I won’t ever have to encounter Nurse Stabbington again, okay?

Thanks.