This morning I was driving down the highway, on my way to a specialist’s appointment, and for a brief second I looked to my left before setting my eyes back on the road. Something I saw, though, had my head reeling back to the left side of me so freaking fast. My arm was splurting blood – splurting!
I had just finished up at the BC biomedical lab for my once-a-month blood work, and you know, I thought the needle-bearing chick was a little rushed given how freaking hard she jabbed that needle into my arm and how quick she was to stick a Band-aid on and send me on my way – the cotton-ball, clot-the-spewing-vein-before-you-leave method completely thrown out the window.
The Band-aid didn’t quite cut it.
And of course I ran out of Kleenex in my car earlier this week, and I don’t do my own oil changes so no fresh paper towel in my car, and I’m wearing white, so I’m freaking out that I’ll soon be wearing red, andddddd yeah, dirty, week-old paper towel sitting in my garbage bag it was. Awesome.
So sanitary!
I seriously look like a cross between a junkie and a vampire lover. No lies, there are TWO angry red jab holes surrounded by purple!
Today’s blood-gushing event had a touch of deja-vu attached to it. About 23 years ago, I think I was 10, maybe 11, my moms took me in for blood work at the hospital, and afterwards as a reward she took me to the golden arches. (Oh how perceptions change; that would be like punishment these days!) We were sitting in the drive thru lane, I was wearing a long-sleeved pink sweater, which was kind of feeling a little moist, so I pressed down on it, and it squished, and I was like, hmm, that’s odd, so I pressed down a few more times before realizing ah cool, I’m gushing! Now, imagine this, my moms doesn’t do well with blood, and when I leaned over and showed her with a “Look ma!” she – not the one losing the blood – nearly passed out, before squealing out of the drive-thru line and speeding us right back to the hospital!
Given how much I give blood, I’m actually kind of surprised this has only happened twice in 24 years.
LAST NIGHT’S PILATES:
- 5 p.m. BG before: 7.4
- Temp. basal: 0
- Time: 1 hour
- 6:30 p.m. BG after: 2.6 (Yikes! Been having lots of lows lately which I’m not liking :()
Ankle update: It’s still gushing. It was getting better, though, I had put a strip of Second Skin on, which seemed to demagnetize it from my shoed foot, and when I hopped out of the shower this morning it was starting to feel itchy, which is a sign of healing right. So I figured I’d let it breathe and I ripped the bandage off. But eight hours later, just as I was walking into the wine store, I totally smoked my ankle! Mario says it was oozing, I say gushing.
Do you have any blood-loss war stories?