Freaks and Geeks

My day was full of Freak and Geek moments. Lucky you, you get to hear about them!

Freak

So I had to go get some bloodwork done as part of my DS surgery. The surgeon likes to keep tabs on my iron and vitamin levels. Whenever I usually visit the vampiresphlebotomist's, I have them draw the 11 (yes, eleven) vials of blood from the excellent veins in my hand. Why the hand? Well, I have control issues. After suffering from life-long needle phobia, finally allowing my blood to be taken at all is a huge step. If I can tell them to take it from my hand, which is far less sensitive than my inner arm, then that preserves the fragile illusion of control that I have over the whole process.

Today, the dizzy bitch that was trying to take my blood had me writhing in agony in that loathesome gray padded chair. The blood, it just wasn't flowing for her. She had to twist the needle first this way, then that way, then one-hundred-and-fucking-eighty degrees around. Motherfucker! Then she fucking blew out the vein in my left hand and had to move on to the right. At least on that one she didn't use a needle that could have substituted for a milkshake straw. The blood, though, was just as stubborn in my right hand. Did she twist the needle again? Yes, she fucking did. I cried.

She passed me off to another phlebotomist at this point, as she couldn't do it. I was a nauseated crying mess at this point ('cause ouch! my fucking hands hurt!). Phlebotomist Two was a very nice woman who put a cold ice pack on my neck and allowed me to calm down.

While my nausea subsided, I came to the very unpleasant conclusion that I would not be able to take another stick in either hand. It just wasn't going to happen. Where else would they have to stick, but my sensitive inner arm? Nightmare. I was just getting more agitated, so I tried looking at my arms, playing Vein Detective. When I tearfully told Phlebotomist Two that I was afraid she'd have to try my arm, FUCKING VAMPIRE BITCH Phlebotomist One copped an attitude and busted out a "wait, you never even gave me an option to do your arm!" like I was blaming her. At this point, I really wasn't but I didn't appreciate her attitude. I explained, near hyperventilating, that it took a lot for me to even offer my arm and that someone was going to have to hold it down so that it didn't jerk. Two guesses who that someone was, and the first one doesn't count.

After five more minutes of calming down, they tied the tourniquet, swabbed my arm with alcohol, and jammed a fucking claymore through my elbow poked me with a tiny needle. I cried more. It was definitely not my proudest moment.

Geek

The WCM gave me his old laptop when he got a new one, so now I have the exciting task of exporting my iTunes music library from my old craptop to my new-to-me laptop. So here was me with two laptops running on the coffee table in front of me, fiddling with USB cords and my Nano, and actually knowing what I was doing. I've never had a prouder geek moment.