Oh, the Pain

A few weeks ago, I was at the doctor's office getting my blood drawn for some lab work.  After draining two or three pints of my blood, the nurse slapped some tape over the wound.

Then she stabbed me in the arm.

"OW.  That hurt!  I mean, that really, REALLY hurt."

The nurse withdrew the ice pick she'd plunged into my arm.  "Sorry."

I don't think she was all that sorry, but I didn't say anything.  I'm not a sissy when it comes to needles.  Anyone who knows me knows of my extensive history with the medical community.  I walked back to the waiting room, contemplating my new found sympathy for our well-immunized children and trying not to swing my throbbing arm.

The shot was part of a test to examine my body's response to stress.  Ironic, to say the least.  But I had to wait 30 minutes for another blood draw, so I made myself comfortable and texted my husband something to the effect of "OMG - PAIN."

The next thing I remember is seeing shoes out of the corner of my eye as I lay face-down on the floor.

The shoes informed me that paramedics were on their way and not to move in case my neck was broken.

"Does your neck hurt?"

"No, but my face does.  Can I roll over?"

They carefully rolled me on my back, and put my legs in the air.  Ten minutes later, the paramedics still weren't there and my feet were numb from the lack of circulation.

"I can't feel my feet."

There was a flurry of activity as doctors and nurses rushed to carry out the CYA emergency plan.  "DON'T MOVE.  We're getting you a neck brace and the paramedics are bringing a board."

"Could we maybe just put my feet down?"

The paramedics finally arrived and taped my head down to a board, then heaved me on to a stretcher.

"Are you in any pain?"

"Just my face.  Do I really need to go to the ER?"

Evidently, I shouldn't have questioned procedure.  I also shouldn't have asked why they were loading me into an ambulance when the ER was directly across the parking lot.  After a lengthy .3 mile drive (which included turning the ambulance around), I was wheeled into the ER.  The paramedics signed me over to a nurse and left.  As did the nurse, who left my head taped securely to the stretcher.

"Hello?  Hello?  Is anyone there?  I think I need a bathroom."

Eventually, a doctor appeared.  "Does your neck hurt?"

"No, just my face."

"Oh good.  Your neck's not broken."  He took off the tape and rolled me onto a bed.

"What about my face?"

I guess he didn't hear me, because after glancing at my chart, he informed me that I'd passed out due to my fear of needles.

"But I'm not afraid of needles."

"Well, it seems you are.  Next time you get blood drawn, make sure you lay down."

He signed my discharge papers and headed off to impart more brilliant medical advice to the pregnant lady down the hall.  Two hours later, I was released to go home.  Tyler handed me my keys and some money for the parking garage.

"My face is killing me."

"Maybe you should take some Advil when you get home."

I was kind of bummed.  You'd think with all of the hoopla, I'd get something more than discharge papers and an Advil.  I thought I deserved something big after all the fuss.

So did the paramedics.

I got an ambulance bill for $772 today.

Ouch.