Blood is Shocking

So I've decided that I'm actually going to start updating this blog. I want to get back into writing, and have decided that this is a good way to do it.

This morning I had to go to a lab to get my blood drawn. You see, I'm trying to get on accutane for my acne, but since accutane is an incredibly intense drug, I have to get two blood tests to make sure I'm healthy enough to take it, and also to make sure I'm not pregnant (if I were pregnant, accutane would severely damage the fetus within the first 1-3 weeks of pregnancy). Anyways though...

So I arrive at the lab about 11:00 this morning. I hadn't eaten anything beforehand, because I was required to be fasting so that they could get an idea of what my blood levels are without sugar in them. I should tell you that I am absolutely terrified of needles, blood, shots, etc... I haven't always been this way. Just in the last five years I've developed a strong fear of getting my blood drawn, medical shots, IV's...basically anything that can go into my skin. But I took some deep breaths and told myself it would be over before I knew it. I had also brought a PB sandwich with me to eat afterwards, as I knew I would need food soon after my blood was drawn.

I walked into the lab office and the receptionist greeted me. I handed her the form the dermotologist had given me, she made a copy of my insurance card, and then led me into a small room. The phlebotomist came in about five seconds after she left. She gave me a friendly smile and said hello. I hate it when people know that I'm scared so I just gave her a big smile and said hello back. She looked over the form, and nodded.

"Well this won't take long at all," she said.

"Oh good," I breathed a sigh of relief. The sooner I'm out of here the better.

"Now you are fasting right?"

"Yes."

"Which arm do you want to use?"

"This one," I said lifting up my left arm. Then I thought about it, "Well, no, actually, let's use my right arm. I write with my left hand."

"Okay," she grabbed the needle and vile. I looked at it and then looked away. Then I looked back at her.

"Um...do most people say that this hurts?" I asked.

"You know, some people say it does, but most just say it's a little poke. And you have two veins here for me to use." She pointed out where she was going to poke me, probably thinking it would comfort me to know where the needle would enter, but instead it only made me feel a little queasy. She then tied a tourniquet around my bicep, and wiped my arm with an alcohol pad.

I looked away, and she poked the needle in. It didn't hurt too bad. It really was just a little poke. She left it in for about ten seconds and then took it out. She put a guaze on my arm and asked me to apply pressure to it while she closed the vile. I did so.

"See? Now that wasn't so bad was it?"

I smiled. "No, no it wasn't. Better than I thought it would be."

Then she turned away, and about five seconds later I started feeling sick. Really sick. Everything started to go blurry. I started breathing deeply, trying to keep my head up. The phlebotomist turned around.

"Whoa. Whoa, are you okay? You don't look so good."

"I'm okay, I'm okay." And then my face suddenly felt very cold.

"You're very pale. Would you like some apple juice?"

"Yeah, sure, if that's okay."

"Well of course! Huh, I didn't draw that much blood from you."

"I know it's interesting, because you really didn't," the room was getting blurrier. "But I do faint when my..." dizzy spell. I took a deep breath... "when my blood sugar gets low. And I haven't eaten anything all morning." I moved to put my head on the counter.

"Okay well this should help," she handed me the apple juice. I drank some of it.

"And I'm terrified of things like this. Getting my blood drawn."

"You are? Well just take some deep breaths. We might have to have you put your head between your knees."

I moved to do just that. Then everything turned grey. I couldn't see anything clearly. I moved my head back towards the counter.

"Would you like a pillow for your head?"

"Oh no, no, I'm fine, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

And then suddenly I couldn't hear anything anymore. Everything felt like a dream. I was so confused. Nothing made sense. Then the next thing I knew I was waking up. My head was on the counter. I raised it up slightly, but then felt dizzy again. I heard voices. I felt someone behind me, and realized that they were holding me up. It was the receptionist. The phlebotomist was in front of me. I could sense that she was very close, and realized her arms were out to catch me if I fell forwards out of my seat. I lifted my head up even more and looked around. Things were becoming clearer.

"How are you?" I heard the phlebotomist ask.

"I feel better," I replied, still in a daze.

"You still look sick. Do you still feel sick?"

"Yes. Everything is blurry. I don't know what's happening."

"Let's put her on the floor and raise her feet up."

Well, after having two weeks of Red Cross Training to become a lifeguard at the Kroc Center, and after hearing that, I realized what was going on with me. I was in shock. My body was reacting to my fear in the only way it knew how: by sending all the blood to my major organs to protect itself. That's why my face had suddenly felt so cold. The blood was rushing from my face to my trunk. And by so doing, blood had been taken away from my brain, and my brain had been deprived of oxygen. Since my brain had been deprived of oxygen, I had fainted. My body had shut down for a few minutes to give itself a chance to get everything working again. My dad later described it as the restart key on a computer. My body had simply shut itself down and then restarted itself.

However, I was still in shock, and because of that had the possibility of fainting again. So they laid me down on the floor, and raised my legs up on a chair. The receptionist then ran to get a doctor. I looked around the room, and at the phlebotomist. I was feeling better and more calm now that I knew what was going on with me.

"You gave us quite a scare there," she told me. "Does this usually happen to you?"

"Only when I don't eat. And I knew that I might feel queasy after this so I had a sandwich prepared. It's out in my car. I thought I'd at least be able to walk out there after this. But I guess not."

"No, definitely not."

I laughed. "I agree." She relaxed when she saw me smiling and laughing.

The doctor arrived and I was smiling and laughing with the phlebotomist. She smiled and then looked me over. "You're okay," she said, and then explained what happened to me.

"Yeah, I know. Two weeks of Red Cross Training. I know I'm in shock." Everyone smiled and gave small laughs at that. They all looked surprised that I knew what was going on with me.

The doctor left and I stayed on the floor for a few minutes more. Unfortunately my room was easily visible to all in the waiting room so there were two other adults staring at me. So embarrassing.

The receptionist then spoke. "So what happened?"

"Everything just went blurry," I told her. "And the next thing I knew I was waking up."

"Yeah you scared us! You weren't answering any of our questions!" I guess I was out for a few minutes then.

"I didn't hear any questions."

Soon enough I was able to sit up again. I drank some more apple juice and they gave me a piece of candy. They then asked if I felt like I could sit in the waiting room until they felt I was well enough to drive home. I told them that was fine. I stood up and began walking.

"You're shaking," the receptionist said. "But not too bad."

"Yeah, I'm shaking," I said. But we all knew it was to be expected after something like that.

I sat down in a chair and the other two adults went into other lab rooms. The receptionist gave me some crackers and I began to eat them. I was fine for about five minutes. Then I started feeling sick yet again.

"You okay?" the phlebotomist asked, when she came out of one of the lab rooms.

"I'm all right. Not as bad as earlier."

"Let's get you some more juice," she poured me some more apple juice and handed it to me.

"Thanks," I smiled and took it from her.

I still felt sick though. I leaned me head against my arm. The receptionist had left the office for a short time, and when she came back she looked at me.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

I took a deep breath then said, "No."

"Okay I'm going to clear out a room for you, and have you lie down on a bed." And she did just that. I followed her into a room and lied down on one of those typical patient beds every doctor's office has. I began to feel better. The phlebotomist came in. After a few minutes she said, "You know, I've been doing this for 35 years and I've never had anyone get sick on me twice."

My eyes were closed but I smiled. "I'm a special case," I grinned.

She laughed. "Yes you are."

About ten seconds passed and I said: "I think I'm going to call my parents and have them come get me. I probably shouldn't drive home."

"No, I was just thinking the same thing."

"But I really don't want them to know this happened to me."

"Well, give it a few minutes then, and we'll see how you're feeling."

A few minutes passed and I was feeling much better. I told her so.

"Okay now sit up."

I did so. "I feel fine." As soon as I said that I felt queasy. Gosh darn it!

"As good as you did lying down?"

I sighed. "No."

"Lie back down."

I did.

"Your hands are still so white."

I looked at them. They were very pale. I shrugged. "Whiter than usual anyways." We needed some humor in the room.

The phlebotomist laughed. "'Whiter than usual,'" she repeated. "Well I suppose it's a good thing you're fair. People won't be able to tell what happened as easily."

I smiled. Then I called my dad, and explained the situation to him. He said he'd be there soon. Other nurses/lab techs/ etc. popped their heads in. One told me a story of her daughter who is also terrified of needles. Apparnently this girl went to go donate blood at a lodge with her friends, and didn't even make it past the front door. Once she saw everyone lying down with needles in their arms she was out. I was glad someone else shared my wretched fear.

My dad arrived at the lab. The receptionist led him back to the room and I sat up. My dad looked at me, his eyes got wide (I guess I looked pretty bad), then to the receptionist, the phlebotomist, then back at me. I smiled at him. He relaxed.

"What are you doing?! Making things intersting for them?"

Everyone gave a small laugh at that, and then I got up and followed my dad out of the lab. I stopped at my car and grabbed my sandwich. I had to be at work in thirty minutes. I decided I was well enough, or would be well enough, to work. I ate my sandwich on the ride home and felt better. Then I hurried inside the house and grabbed my bag full of lifeguard stuff. Then I hurried back out and my dad drove me to work.

Luckily they assigned me to a station where I could sit down first, in the competitive pool area. I was still feeling a little queasy, but well enough to watch people swim laps back and forth and make sure no one was drowning. About ten minutes later I heard someone say:

"Hi Kristen!"

I looked down. It was my mom, with a huge smile on her face.

"Hi Mom!"

"I heard you fainted."

"Yeah...it was pretty embarassing."

She laughed and nodded, but I could tell she was just glad to see I was okay. She was at the Kroc Center signing Amy and Kate up for swim lessons.

Later when she came to pick me up and drive me back to my car, she said she hadn't realized how truly terrified I was of needles. She had been teasing me the last few days, because I kept saying how much I was dreading going to the lab.

"Bet you feel pretty bad, huh?" I teased her.

"I do actually. I'm really sorry. I really didn't realize that it was a legitimate fear of yours."

"It's okay." All was forgiven.

So we arrived at the parking lot, I got into my car, and drove home! I have to get another one of these tests done in four weeks though. At least next time around precautions will be taken. The phelebotomist told me that she would have me already lying down in a bed, apple juice ready to go!