Plus I probably messed up Blue Cross’ (pah I spit on them) database, which is just gravy
Don’t laugh, but I pass out when I have blood taken.
Even a tiny drop, for blood typing, because I guess I don’t know my own blood type?
It all started when I stupidly gave blood for the first time. I was in college and the signs advised that it was a good idea to eat first but, as one does, I thought, “Well, those signs certainly don’t apply to me! I am stronger than mere mortals!”
It was the blood-giving equivalent of, “Hey! Hold my beer!” and it ended about as well as you might imagine, which was with me passed out and my head swirling and with psychedelic visions, purple and bizarre, in my mind so now I never have to take LSD because I think I know and then I came to, and, even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I knew they were a cliché, but I said them anyhow because apparently, that is the Human Condition: “Where am I? What happened?”
And then, they made me finish giving blood, even though I could feel it pulsing in the tube against my arm and I felt like I was going to pass out again and ever since then, I have had A Thing about blood being removed from my body, although really, isn’t that the proper biological response to blood leaving the body? Shock? Panic? It’s not a good thing to happen! It’s BAD! It’s a BAD SIGN!
I have since passed out many a time after bloodletting and even, indeed, merely being punctured. The time that Ilene, Leigh, and I went to get my belly button pierced did not end well. Not only did I pass out 15 minutes later on the drive home – that’s why I now take a doctor on all piercing excursions and why I was so happy to have Dr Ilene there, but Leigh passed out in sympathy (I have the best friends in the world), which would not have been so bad except she was the one driving.
Leigh: I think I’m getting television!
Me, bossy and pedantic to the end and totally missing the point: Tunnel vision. You’re getting tunnel vision.
Ilene: STOP THE CAR!
Leigh: No, I think I can make it to Texan’s house.
Ilene: STOP. THE. CAR. NOW!
(She stopped. We all survived. I removed the belly button ring with a needle-nosed pliers seven months later because it just wouldn’t heal and it wasn’t making me thin.)
So yeah, I pass out.
But my stupid insurance company – I will name names – it’s Blue Cross of Michigan and they are the worst insurance company in the world – makes you pay higher premiums unless you get a physical and that physical includes a blood draw.
Mr T keeps all kinds of crap and he found an old box that has his employee benefits package from 1988 in it. At first, I just wanted to criticize him for keeping old crap like that, but then I looked at his health insurance and I wanted to cry as I remembered the days when employers actually offered good benefits to their employees. Mr T didn’t have to pay any of the premium and he had a $100 deductible with an 80/20 plan, $2,500 max.
Lord have mercy I miss that part of 1988. And my skin. And my hair. And my arms, which had not yet turned flabby, even though my biceps and triceps are strong.
So to get the Good Premium, I have to have a physical and get a blood draw, so it’s always the Worst Day of the Year (yes, I know this is a very First World Problem) as I dread dread dread the Poking of the Elbow and the Removal of the Blood which is not what Nature intended.
And they say it’s supposed to be a fasting draw – that I’m not supposed to eat or drink.
If you are going to take my blood and I am going to pass out or, at the least, be in dread for days, I am not going to do any of that on an empty stomach.
So I eat.
I eat. I eat before the draw AND I LIE ABOUT IT.
Screw you, Blue Cross of Michigan, and your evil tricks of saying a visit to a specialist whose office happens to be in a hospital counts as a hospital visit, with a $500 deductible, instead of as a specialist in-network visit for a $45 co-pay.
And I didn’t pass out. So I am proud.