Tuesday, September 18, 2007

The TCM Returns

As I said in my last post, there are times I’d love to have a mob on hand, mainly to deal with people, companies, or situations that annoy me. Last Friday (and now today as well) was one of those days.

I haven’t seen a doctor in years so I decided I needed a complete check up. Among the tests was a blood draw, something I absolutely fear and hate. Even writing about is getting me lightheaded, but I will toughen up for the sake of my readers.

The sight of human blood makes me queasy, but when I see my own leave my body into a tube, it’s unbearable. I told the nurse, as she was gathering her tools, of my distress. Every time I have had my blood drawn, my statement of discomfort prompted the nurse to talk to me. As mindless as the chatter may be, it gets my mind off the impending draining of my lifeline. I learned to look the other way myself, but most have also directed me to a poster to stare at.

This nurse acknowledged my statement with a quick grin and complete silence. She started to preparing my arm, and not a word was spoken. I knew then I must fend for myself. I was within stretching distance of a magazine, so stretching for dear life with my free arm, I managed to grab a fashion magazine. Such a desperate act should have been indication number 2 that it’s critical I get my mind off of the draw, but she didn’t react to the very clear number 1, so it was no surprise that she still said nothing.

I rummaged through pages, finally landing on a makeup review (note to self: remember to check out Chanel blush). I survived the ordeal, but less than optimally. It’s much harder to direct my mind towards a passive activity, like reading, from an actively worrying state. In addition to reading, I had to shake my left leg to divert the attention away from my constrained right arm. Isn’t that all a bit weird to you nurse lady!

But, whatever, it was over, my blood was being sent away to the lab, and I could finally break my 12 hour fast. …Well, I thought way too soon… I should have waited a week for such a positive thought. I was informed today that someone screwed up. There was a blood mix up, and I have to go in again to get it drawn all over again. I thought blood mix ups only happen in movies and to OJ Simpson?!?

I much more frightened than ever before. One, I figure the nurse was silent because she needed the concentration, which makes me think she is inexperienced. Now I am worried she’ll have trouble finding the blood vessel and/or she’ll inadvertently inject some air bubble into me and kill me. Two, who mixes up blood? Not in the history of me or Will (since he has been around longer than me) have we had such an experience. I’m betting it was on this nurse’s end. I don’t want to go back!

To make matters even worse, I really need to get it done this week. I start school next week, and just don’t have the time. So my choices are Wednesday, right after the physical torture of the dentist, and because I’ll have to fast, that pain and distress will by accompanied by hunger and a hunger headache; Thursday, my birthday and a busy work day, but since I’m worried she’s going to kill me, it seems too morbid to go on that day; or Friday, the day of my and my friend’s party. That last day is only an issue, because usually I am in a zomibified state after any medical work. That is completely my hypochondriac self’s fault, but still…Damn you woman!

Going back to last Friday, though, there was another thing that annoyed me, selling via guilt. A lady came by around 8 and gave some schpeel about second chances, and how she has cleaned up her life and wants a second chance. According to her, her second chance requires me to buy magazines off of her. I told her we already have what we need and wasn’t interested. She proceed to explain that it’s not about buying magazines you’ll actually read, it’s about helping her get back on her feet again. She then showed me pictures of her kids. I wished her luck and said she would probably have no problem finding other buyers on this street to help her meet her selling quota, but I just wasn’t interested. That’s when she really tried to play the guilt card, and asked if I had kids. I stole the bait and threw the line back to her. I told her I didn’t and that she could come back when I did. She left in a huff.

I’m usually more polite to salespeople as I know it’s their job, but I don’t like it when one’s sales strategy is emotional manipulation. Now, if she had tried to sell me something I needed, like chocolate, I would have been more receptive. However, if she had told me I had to buy it for the survival of her and her kids, I’d still turn it down.

Well, that’s it for whining. My next post will have a much more cheery tone.


Sariah said...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CARRIE!! I hope your TCM brings you lots of cake and no annoyances today! I can't believe your story about the blood mix up. Seriously, that only happens in bad made-for-TV shows!! I hope you had a different nurse this time around and all your results come out fine.

Funny story about the second chance sales lady. One day right after Christopher and I were married once of these sales girls knocked on our door. Gave us the EXACT schpeel you stated and we told her everything you did and mentioned that we were poor ourselves (in school, newly married). However, our story ended differently. She left and for the next 3 years I started receiving some gardening magazine...I lived in an apartment all those years! They did a lot of good! DOH!

Carrie said...


Yeah, like tv movies you would watch on Lifetime ;-). "What about Sha-nnon!!!"

Lol. At least you prevented her "kids" from from going hungry.

Sariah said...

Hey, don't mess with 'da Bean! I always think of you whenever he comes up...and always have! You know you were (and still are) so envious of our lust!

Wait a minute, I just re-read your comment...what the hell are you talkin' about?!? lol. I'm lost.

Carrie said...

Maybe I misread yours. You're talking about the Bean as in MB, Bean, as in the guy who'll 'keep DeQwan Mitchell's girlfriend in prison for so long her parole officer hasn't even been born yet' Bean (ahh, I need to put Strapped on the Netflix queue for old time's sake). I should have known! Everything leads back to the Bean. You are so enamored by the man. :P

I wasn't clear about the Shannon thing. Like 2/3 of all Lifetime movies, the husband cheats and/or abuses and/or kills the wife. "What about Shannon!" is something Shannon’s mom yells when they discuss that the husband is no longer a suspect in her death (or something like that). Of course, this may have happened in 2/3 of the movies

Anonymous said...

happy birthay 3rd time! and it is always fun to read your blog as much as talking and theorizing with a beer + a margarita !