June 16, 1997
4:13PM EST

Someone needs to remind me to put my foot down with lab technicians.

I went to the doctor today to get my thyroid levels checked. I've been doing this every six weeks for almost a year now, trying to get the dosage on my medication right. Basically this boils down to three blood-drawings in the last few months. Judging from how much better I feel, I think my doctor has finally gotten the right amount of medecine, but I still needed to get a test done to check it.

All of my life I have had a problem with needles. It's pretty common, a lot of people do. It usually starts out as childish fear of pain when you get stuck with a sharp pointy thing. I used to hate getting shots, but after a while, I could deal with it. In fact I didn't mind shots at all. however, getting blood drawn has never ceased to cause irrational panic, fainting, and vomiting on my part.

Though I'd hoped that having had enough tests in the past few months to speckle a pin cushion, this time was no exception and was in fact, the worst yet. The first time I had to have blood drawn, was when I was ten years old. I don't remember clearly why, but mymother probably decided it was a good idea to find out what blood type I was, and do a general profile to make sure everything was okay. I screamed and wailed and cried like a banshee. It hurt. A lot.

I should mention that I have really sensitive skin, especially on my inner arm, everyone's inner arm is more sensitive than the rest of their skin, but I seem to have the dubious blessing of being able to feel very well with my skin. Anyway, the second time I had blood drawn was almost 3 years ago when my physician decided that my inability to lose weight despite a healthy diet and moderately active life-style, married with fatigue and mild depression must be due to something other than laziness.

I had to fast for that one, because they were also doing a cholesterol profile. I was already dizzy from lack of nourishment and had bile built up in my stomach. Whent he needle went in, my stomach heaved, the room spun around and the thing I knew stomach acids were spewing all over the lab technician who at least had the alacrity to grab a trash can for me. I was mortified, but not utterly surprised. My father, big macho guy that he is, had to have a blood test when he was mustering into the US Army. He was standing in line with all of the other guys, and the docs were just pulling blood out of them in droves. When my dad stepped up and stuck his arm out, he steeled his nerves and the needle went in and he promptly passed out, knocking down the rest of the line like a stack of dominoes.

So the nurses fed me some OJ, had me lie downand then I went home and had breakfast with my mother shakingher head over the fact that she, a nurse, could have a daughter who lost her cookies over a simple blood test.

I went to Europe for a year, when I came back I had blood taken again so they could check my progress. I insisted on lying down for this one and though my stomach churned and the room spun, I managed to keep the contents of my stomach, right where they belonged. The few times I had blood work done, I continued to insist on being allowed to lie down. In fact, my doctor made a note of it on my record so that the lab techs and the nurses would know to have me lie down right off the bat and not even bother with the chair.

I finished college and moved away from my folks' home. I found a new doctor down here in Virginia. It's a women's clinic, a pretty cool place, which is centered around women's health. the first time I had blood work done there, I told them I needed to lie down, and a nice young African nurse by the name of Mariann took my blood, she got my vein right away, didn't miss and had no problems with me other than a vague passing dizziness. I left feeling very reassured about the place. Unfortunately my dosage had to be modified, it wasn't high enough, so I was going ot have to do 6 weeks on a higher level and then come back for another check.

My second blood test there, was a mild disaster, the technician could barely speak English and didn't understand when I told her I needed to lie down. She gave me an odd look about the request, didn't smile at all, in fact looked quite miffed as she collected the materials. She missed my veins twice so I had three gaping pricks in my arm and then she had trouble getting the blood to flow. I had a nasty purple and yellow bruise for about a week, but I didn't feel dizzy.

Today, was the worst it's ever been. I was hot and sweaty upon arrival, from hopping 2 buses to get there. I had to wait for 15 minutes, and they finally showed me in. Yet another tech with dubious English skills. She was nice though and kept smiling and being encouraging. So she takes me to the back, I tell her I need to lie down and she begins to go on and on about how much more comfortable it is in the chair. I tell her I really don't think it's a good idea because it could get really nasty. She nods and says 'Oh yes, but really the chair is so much les uncomfortable, yes?" I eye the chair doubtfully and sigh and say that I really think it'd be better if I laid down and she repeats how comfortable the chair is. So I sit down and hold my arms and ask her which vein she wants. I should have known this would go badly right then, she took one look at my right arm exclaiming "Oh my, nothing there, no can use that no no" and grabs my left arm nodding at the spot which technicians have chosen almost every time "ah yes ok, not much here either, but can, you see, I do fastly, not hurt I do it real quickly".

Like an idiot I nod my head trustingly and stare up at the ceiling making a tight fist and start counting backwards in my had and breathing in and out slowly to keep myself relaxed. I feel the needle go in, it wiggles about inside, my stomach stirs restlessly. the tech exclaims "hmm so hard to get your veins, you no have any !" I groan to myself inwardly, this is a mistake. The tech sighs "I have vain, but no blood, you too nervous, relax!" Oh yeah, that's gonna help. She pulls the needle out "I no can use this arm, your skin too delicate" Oh great. "Give other arm, please" Now I know she can't find anything on the other arm, so how is she going to get it this time??? instead she wraps the rubber strip around my lower arm and starts poking at my hands which are very thin, and where you can easily see my veins. "You're going to do it in my HAND??!!" says I, very loudly, she looks up at me and smiles cheerfully "Oh yes, very easy, I use very small needle see, no hurt" No , no no, I say, you don't get it, I have NO fat on my hands. "Yes yes yes, see here, very easy no hurt." I give her the hairy eyeball for a moment then calmly submit my hand and tilt my head back again. Breath in, breathe out.

*Jam* oh god, that was the needle, it hurts like a bitch I can feel it trembling slightly as she fits the bottle onto the end, she pushes it in deeper "There see no hurt" I think of something else, try to visualize sabs' face, and then my stomach and my nerves have decided that this is enough, a wave of nausea washes over me. "Oh shit" I say. I try to keep breathing calmly, but no way says my body.. this is an alien invasion, I can feel the bllo trickling out of the top of my hand, my heart starts racing, the room starts to spin, and my visions narrows to a dark spot. From far away I hear someone screaming "OH GOD! GET IT OUT!" I know that's my voice, but it doesn't seem to belong to me.

The thing I know something harsh-smelling is waving back in forth under my nose and making my throat raw. For some reason, even though it smells foul, it calms my breathing which is rapid and panicked and eases the tightness in my chest and the roiling of my stomach. I vaguely see the shape of one of the doctors bending over me and the assistant is holding my head up "It's ok" she's saying over and over again. Finally I'm able to sit up as the room stops spinning and my tummy settles back down. I'm covered with cold sweat and the past few minutes or so are a blur. I look up at the tech, flushed with embarrasment "I'm sorry" I say ruefully. She pats my hands "Is ok, you lie down time". The blood vial is only 3/4 full but she doesn't try to stick me again. I apologize profusely. She nods and walks around the corner for a moment. The doctor asks her if I asked to lie down, she says yes, but she thought it'd be okay, yadda yadda yadda, the doctor says something to the effect of, " time listen to the patient" and she comes back and gives me a cup of water. The ammonia taste in the back of my throat goes away.

After a few minutes I stand up and walk out feeling shaky and exhausted. I want to go home. The bus doesn't come and doesn't come. Finally the bus comes. I have to stop at the Post Office. I drop the bills in the slot and trudge out into the blistering midday heat. I feel terrible, so I treat myself to Friendly's for lunch. Boy does a hut fudge sundae go a long way toward making me feel better.

However, from now on, I plan to be quite insistent with lab technicians about letting me lie down for my blood tests. Lying down is a lot less embarrasing than losing control in a panic reaction. I wish I knew why this happens to me. Conciously, while I don't particularly like having my blood drawn, it's not the subject of abject terror that it was when I was little. I didn't agonize about it before I went over there. I didn't actively dread it, and even when she missed my vein, I was still able to breath in deeply to keep my system under control. However at some point, something basic and primal took over and shut down my higher brain functions and let 'em have it with sheer unadulterated panic. Maybe it's because my skin is so sensitive and I can feel so much of what's going on, maybe it's because I have low blood-pressue and when my system sense the blood loss it goes on hyperdrive o prevent it. I don't know.

I wish I could figure out why I have this reaction, because it's really really stupid and a pain in the arse for the people who have to try to draw my blood.

Does anyone else panic when they have to have blood drawn?