On becoming a pincushion

I had six needles stuck in me last Thursday!

I had my oral glucose tolerance test which required I drink a bunch of sugar water and then get my blood taken–took them three pricks.

Then they gave me a TDAP booster, so one more.

Then I had to go to the hospital to get the Rhogam shot, since I am Rh-negative (apparently only 1% of Asian women are) and my husband is Rh-positive.  First they had to do another blood test for that though, and then they poked me in the rear end to give me the shot.

That made six.  I had bandages all over my arms.  My nurse told me not to get pulled over by the cops!

Oddly, the Rhogam shot and blood work for that were in the hospital’s chemo infusion center, so I waited there for an hour or so alongside all the chemo patients.

Being there, I felt a little solidarity with my mom, especially since her veins are also hard to find.  The stupid chemo place doesn’t bother taking the blood out of her chemo port; I think the reason is that they would need an oncology nurse to do that, whereas if they just need to poke needles into her randomly then an ordinary phlebotomist can do it.

Just the glucose tolerance test and Rhogam made me so nervous that I can’t imagine what my mom went through before surgery and chemo.  I mean, I thought my anxiety was bad before she had those procedures, but it’s different when it’s your very own body–her fear must have been in a different universe.  Or maybe not; she’s a braver soul than I am.


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