An Apple A Day?

Have I mentioned that among my many phobias is a fear of doctors - or, I should say, the medical profession in general? For someone who comes from a family full of doctors and nurses, I could have picked a phobia that was more appropriate, like a fear of plumbers or policemen, but I didn't get to do the choosing. Maybe, after years in the middle of medical people, I knew better than to buy into the "Doctor as God" theory. To me, they are just all too human.

That said, I finally went to my doctor's office last week. I was only six months late for my semi-annual appointment. First, I went to the lab for the blood-letting. My favorite lab tech - the one who could always find the right vein on the first try and didn't hurt, had quit. I can only guess that she went in search of a better paying job, given that doctors are notoriously stingy with their employees.

Anyway, the other tech had brought his wife, Vampira, in to take her place, and this was not good news. In spite of my assurance that I could show her where the best vein was, she ignored me, put a rubber tourniquet around my upper arm, handed me a ball to squeeze, and started thumping around the bend of my elbow, looking for a vein. Failing that, she sighed and plunged the needle into my arm and, of course, missed the veins by a mile. She kept trying, as though she were drilling for oil, and, just when I was about to grab the syringe and do it myself, she accidently found a tiny vein. Then, she complained that the blood wasn't flowing very fast.

I bit my tongue before I said that if she had found a normal-sized one, instead of a "spider" vein, she would have a gusher. Instead, I quipped that I wasn't moving very fast, either, at that hour of the morning, without having my coffee. (chuckle) She wiggled the needle and pulled on the plunger. The woman has no sense of humor at all.

At last, she removed the needle, gave me a cotton ball to press on the wound, and said the words that will forever endear her to me. "Do you have an appointment, or do you want us to call you with the results?" Yessssssss! After a little internal celebrating, I said, offhandedly, "Well, you might as well call me. Then, if he wants me to come in for some reason, (such as reminding himself what I look like), he knows how to find me. "

And, I actually got away with it. His nurse called me a couple of days later and told me everything is fine, no changes, and come in in 6 months. I figure I can probably push that out to eight months, easily. Maybe nine.