Now, my pertinent medical history starts with trying to quit smoking and ends up sounding like the blurb for Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas. At the beginning of all of this, I had to go to the phlebotomist to get my BMP and liver testing done. I didn't think anything weird about this, because I previously loved getting my blood taken. I always got good results, I liked watching them stick a needle in my arm and sucking out my magic juice, and my veins are just really freaking cool because I'm better than you.
Unfortunately, the medication I was on then messed with my head, and so right as I was giddily waiting to see my human fluid get extracted, I passed out. That's pretty much the end of them treating you like an adult, when this happens - they dump you in a dark room to lie around for four hours before they send the worst possible nurse in to draw your blood. Like I said last paragraph, I have fantastic veins. You can see them from space. Of course, this nurse had to poke me four times to get a flow, and I could feel the needle scraping around inside my juice tubes. All of a sudden, something I'd treated as magical and fun throughout my childhood was now an invasive and annoying experience.
So, my new doctor wants me to get a ton of tests done. I go to the facility, lightheaded from anxiety and fasting, and sit in the waiting room watching Big Pharma drone on and on from the waiting room TVs (active seniors, outdoors in the sunset in beautiful pastures. Lunesta may cause you to vomit every five seconds and forget huge chunks of your evening). They call me back, I march back, throw out my arm, and look away, doing anything I can not to have to get tossed in the cellar for the rest of the afternoon.
Guy was a fucking pro. He tapped me like it was date rape. If I wasn't completely sure they were just going to make up test results and use the samples try to clone me, I'd be enjoying it again.
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