I’m blogging from my living room. Today is the rare day off, given to me in exchange for taking me out of my courtroom for a week to help out another court. So like all overworked employees who get to enjoy an expected day off, I made myself a 9:10 a.m. annual physical appointment at Kaiser.

I believe this is the first time I’ve ever had a male examine me for my pap smear. Dr. Wu was thorough, friendly and took the time to answer my questions and check on my concerns, and when it came time for the pelvic examination, he got his female nurse in the room to assist as is policy. He explained everything he was about to do before he did it, and told me what to expect, from “I’m going to touch the skin now to examine the outer regions,” to “I’m going to use a lot of lubricant, but you’ll still feel pressure, and then you’ll hear clicking. The clicking is the speculum opening up, so don’t be alarmed.” As he was examining, he told me his visual assessment of each area he was checking on, “Cervix looks very normal, discharge is healthy, very pretty vagina…” Just kidding on the last one. Okay, it was inappropriate. Shame on me. My point is, nervous as I was that I was to be seen, poked and prodded “down there” by a guy I’d never met, and the only other guy since Mr. W, that it was the most gentle, painless and quick pap smear I’d ever received. I told him so, too, and he looked pleased. I said off-handedly that I think men are just more gentle about this than women, and the female nurse turned to me and made eye contact, nodding at me in emphatic agreement. I guess I wasn’t the only one who had to deal with rough cold metal stuff. (This one was disposable clear plastic.) We agreed that since I’m 2 years late on my annual physical, that I should be tested for everything, from liver function to STDs. A lot of tests can only be performed if you’ve been fasting for the day, so my never eating breakfast finally paid off. He ordered a battery of blood tests and off I went to the lab.

Now blood-drawing, that was a whole different experience. I walked into the lab and sat down at one of the counter booths. The big lady (nurse) on the other side told me to stick my arm out and make a fist, then she poked with her fingertip around my inner elbow. More poking. “Oh. You’re one of THOSE,” she said.
I said apologetically, “Yeah, I am. I was the last time I was here, too.” Small veins. Poke, poke. Turned my arm down. Poke, poke.
“Lemme see your other arm,” she said, and I extended my left arm. Made a fist. Poke, poke. Turned my arm. Poke, poke. Checked the back of my hand. Poke, poke. No, don’t take it THERE! I’d surely pass out! Needles already put me into shock as it is! “Nope, nothing here, either. Lemme go back to the first arm.” Poke, poke. Touched the back of my forearm. Poke, poke. “And you’d think he doesn’t have a sense of humor.” Eh? I looked over at the other nurse, thinking my nurse was talking to her about a doctor or someone who played a trick on my nurse sending her a patient with no veins, but the other nurse didn’t respond. My nurse continued, “I have terrible veins, too. And I bet He thinks that’s really funny.” Oh, she was talking about God.
“Well, they’re just gonna have to find a better way to test for things,” I started blubbering, as I felt her needle poke my forearm, pull out, poke again, pull out, poke again.
“Pssh, they already think they’re geniuses coming up with THIS. I’m not getting anything here. Lemme try another place.” She taped a cotton ball over the offending area and went an inch and a half higher. The repeated poking went again as I concentrated on not hyperventillating, going into shock, or passing out. She may have said some stuff. I may have replied some stuff. It’s all a blur from there. And then, “I’m gonna have my coworker try with you. I’m not having any luck. Sorry. Hey Jan, when you get a chance? I already stuck her twice.” A second cottonball got straddled to my arm.
The second nurse came by, poked my non-holey arm, and asked if I’d drank much water today. I told her no, just half a cup in the morning. She said that sometimes when people don’t drink enough water, the veins get hard to find. She didn’t seem stressed, however, as she ripped another needle out of its plastic packaging and attached it to a new test tube. “Look over there,” she had me turn away. I did, and I felt a prick, then a deeper pain. “There we go,” she said.
“What did you do differently?” I asked, although I already knew. The needle went clear through my arm.
“Oh, some people are just different,” she said hesitantly. Probably didn’t want me to go into shock right there in front of her and pass out. The four tubes were collected relatively quickly as I tried not to feel the pain, tingling in my fingertips or the beginnings of nausea, and she taped my third cottonball on my body, told me to put my finger there for a few minutes, and I left. Walking out into the waiting room again, I felt like a pincushion in my black tanktop and all the white fluffy cottonballs protruding very visibly from my arms. People probably thought I got tested for everything under the sun.
I staggered to the warmth of my car and decided, hell. I WAS gonna go work out but now I’m just gonna go fill up my car, get postage stamps, then go home and eat.

What a stressful day off.