Sometimes, I really don’t want to be me. Or, barring that, some days I should just yank the covers over my head, and just forget about the entire day.

This was how my friday was totally wasted… and I had to cry afterwards.

My doctor doesn’t believe that I am not (currently) Type II Diabetic. I have been monitoring my blood sugar for three months and according to all the articles I’ve read, and my mother, grandmother, and two aunts (all Type IIs) agree that my numbers are within the norm. I can’t go off and eat a cake and some pasta, of course. I do have to exercise more and get more strict about my diet. However, I am convinced, that at this time, I am not Type II.

Again, my doctor disagrees, so he ordered a Glucose Tolerance test. This is a two hour test that has to be taken at least 8 hours after fasting, in the morning. I was a good girl, and I did my fasting. I was told I could have water, but I didn’t indulge. Sorry, but I am not an 8-glasses-a-day sort.

I woke up at 7:57am did my morning stuff, took my meds, and by 9:15am I was out the door and on my way down to the bus stop.

I arrived at the clinic at 10am and at 10:30am I had my first blood draw and was given some faux kool-aid glucose that tasted like someone dumped the entire sugar bowl into it. Guh-Ross! Once that was done, I had to go sit in the waiting room for an hour.

I brought my book with me and thought it would be all right, except the A/C was so freakin’ cold it was like sitting in a refrigerator. Honest to god, it was painful cold! I complained, as did two other waiting patients, but nothing was done about it. By the time I thought to go sit outside and warm up, it was 11:30am.

A different nurse took my blood.

If this were my phlebotomist, needles wouldn't be a problem.

Now – my elbow veins are small and like to run away. Because I am not a big water drinker, my blood flows sluggishly. It is a problem for a phlebotomist. This is not a new thing. This has always been a problem even way back when I was a healthy little kid running around like a spinning top. Basically, I am simply not hydrated enough, so my veins are small, they run away, and I have molasses for blood. (And yes, I know, this is just another one of those damn things that sets me up for a stroke or heart attack – that’s another blog post, so let’s leave it for now. Kay?)

So, elbow veins are lousy. What works? The veins on the back of my hand. Yep, I can hear some of you going EW. Well, it does hurt, but since I’m not so great with needles in the first place, anyplace that you stick me with one is unpleasant, so WTH, stick the back of my hand with a needle. I don’t care… all that much.

Every. Single. Time. I get a blood draw, I tell the phlebot not to use the elbow veins and use the hand veins. Sometimes I get an argument. This time I got an argument, and my elbow vein was caught and stuck. And, the phlebot complained that my blood was really, really slow. Uh-huh.

She’s finished, though, and doesn’t complain about sample size, so I think I’m already to go back to the refrigerator for an hour and I do so. Except, it is still too damn cold, so I went and sat outside. 80 degree weather today with a nice breeze and I’m in a purple sleeveless dress with gothic-y embroidery on it, sitting on the sidewalk. Yep, funny looks from the downtown tweekers.

An hour goes by. I don’t get called for my third and last shot. At 1pm I go to the desk and ask what’s up. They call a nurse for me and no one comes out until 1:30pm.

BTW – I haven’t eaten one bit of food since 11pm last night!!!!!

The head of the nurses station comes out and tells me that there will not be a third stick. My test is “inconclusive”. Wanna know why? Because the 2nd nurse should have tried to get a better blood draw from my hand, but didn’t. Nor did she let me know there was even a problem. On top of that, she told her superior, when she was asked why she didn’t draw a second sample, that she had gone to the refrigerator to call me back for a second draw but I never answered!

Okay – you’re saying – you were sitting on the sidewalk outside and never knew she came out. Sorry, bub. But, I let everyone know just where I was. I could see every nurse and doc that came out. Plus, they have a speaker that outside in which their receptionist uses if you don’t hear yourself get called.

The bint lied…. grrrrr

So, I finally left, at fifteen minutes to 2pm, went to a nearby restaurant, ordered some food, which was served at 2:10pm. I then ate, paid my bill, got on the bus and went home. I was home at 3:30pm.

What a freakin’ waste of a day, AND I have to get the test, AGAIN.

Honestly, I’m really thinking of refusing to take it again. Way too much trouble.