Heading for the Hills

Daily Prompt: Fight or Flight

When faced with confrontation, do you head for the hills or walk straight in?  Was there ever a time you wished you’d had the opposite reaction?

After fasting for 14 hours, I went to my doctor’s office this morning for a blood test that never was, and waited nearly an hour for what is usually a walk in/ walk out situation.  There was only one person in the waiting room who came and then went. I am a patient patient perfectly content with reading magazines.

Although for 15 years I have been getting blood tests at the local hospital (because of hidden “rolly” veins), the doctor’s receptionist insisted today’s methods are sharper (no pun intended) and their own nurses in the office are “really good and can easily find hidden veins”.  Ha!

So, here I am – arrived at 8:30 AM as instructed, announcing name, spelling, birth date, and  “I’m here for a blood test.”

“Oh, what kind of blood test?” she asks.  Clue #1  she doesn’t have anything in that big computer about my records or what tests the doctor wants.  Uh Oh!

That little twinge of concern put aside, I now wait – and wait – and wait – in what is a serenely quiet office. Eventually fidgeting kicks in along with an urge to escape.  But, the technician (sweet young man) finally beckons. He is prepared with tubes, bands and sharp things, but after gently tapping and probing both my arms and looking frighteningly perplexed, he somewhat unwillingly begins to give up the challenge. 

Feeling like the blood-drive donor in a  recent t.v. commercial featuring a salivating Dracula, I have an overwhelming urge to run.

“It’s O.K., I say, like a sweet little old lady. “You tried.”  Then I politely ask for a paper order for the hospital lab.  “I can still go over there for the test this morning,” I say, and Dracula agrees.  Why waste a perfectly good fast anyway?

 And again, I wait and wait.  Where is that paper order?  There is no one else in the waiting room. Why the delay?

Oh yes!  Here comes a teenage boy who sits across from me, and is promptly invited into the mysterious recesses of the doctor’s inner chambers.

Becoming dizzy from starvation (no food now in 15 hours) I ask the receptionist to find out how much longer it will be to get the order.  From the desk I see Dracula measuring the height of the newly arrived teenager. 

Isn’t Dracula supposed to be working up my blood test order!  Why is he measuring that boy?

“You’re next,” says Dracula, as he notices my incredulous stare. 

Next?  Does that mean another half hour?   What am I (as they say) – chopped liver?  I have already been waiting here an hour!

This was the turning point for potential confrontation!   

“I tell you what,” I say quietly (in a secretly blind rage and trying to seem like a nice little old lady).  “I will come back another time to pick up the order.”

“But you have to be fasting for this test.”

“I will fast another day.”  And I promptly run out of the office to speed on home for breakfast, with stomach growling and muttering verbal epitaphs all the way.

Obviously, fighting is not my style.

I’m a Head-for-the-Hills-Kinda-Gal needing training in martial arts,

but I’m much less snarly after breakfast!

Related articles

• Blood tests (fibrofreak.wordpress.com)

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