I just got home from playing human voodoo doll. At least, that’s what it seems like the lab I got my blood drawn was doing. The air conditioner was set to about twenty below zero, for starters. So all my limbs are pretty much numb (or so I thought). Then the girl comes in to take my blood, and she can’t find a vein. She tries, stabs me, withdraws to get another lucky contestant in the “Find a Vein” contest.

This guy comes in and finally elects for one on the back of my hand and they need to collect three gallon-sized tubes worth of blood. He’s wiggling the needle around and I’m making faces and trying not to scream.

“Does that hurt?”

“Well, it sure as *&^% doesn’t tickle!” It felt like he was trying to yank the damn vein out of my hand.


This topped off my morning, which started at my doctor’s office. Let me preface this by saying I am not a person who runs to the doctor at the drop of a hat. I also have a VERY high pain tolerance threshold. I love our doctor, I just hate seeing him for me. My left shoulder has been messed up for years, and I know I’ve got arthritis settling into my fingers (I’m only 37 but spent nearly 7 years working with my ex in an automotive engine shop, and it runs in my family.) but lately I’ve had some chest pain on my left side that’s different. I decided to get an appointment. I know from a previous appointment I have mitral valve prolapse (whatever that is). After my grandmother’s death in May from a heart attack, I thought it prudent to get this new pain checked out…now that it’s been going on for about two months. Not to mention I’ve got a history of breast cancer in my family (father’s mother) but a mammogram less than a year ago was clean.

Doctor isn’t sure if it’s my heart, but he’s leaning to it being related to my shoulder. He asked how I sit when I write (um, hunched over *LOL*) and said that could be contributing. He also asked if I drank a lot of caffeine.

When I finished laughing my ass off, I said, uh, I’m a writer so the answer to that would be hell, yes.

So he prescribed me Celebrex for my shoulder and hands on a trial basis to see if that helps (he didn’t like that I’m eating Ecotrin and arthritis strength Tylenol like Pez for some reason *LOL*) and scheduled me an echocardiogram on Friday just to rule out any heart problems.

Getting the script filled will be a challenge, apparently. Fortunately he gave me samples to tide me through. Because the pharmacy tech couldn’t tell me how MUCH my copay will be on my script until after they fill it. (How are you supposed to know if you can afford it or not?) She said call the insurance company. I called the insurance company, who gave me a ballpark (between $30 – $50 for a month’s supply after I spent twenty minutes in their voice-activated phone tree hell trying to get a REAL PERSON) BUT informed me that since it’s a “tier 3” medication, my doctor has to jump through hoops and sacrifice a chicken to get the approval “unblocked” so they’ll pay for it and I can get it filled.


Between the doctor’s office and dropping off the script, I treated myself to a McD’s large caramel iced coffee. YUM. Then the lab. Then I called my husband and ranted and said I was going to get me ANOTHER large caramel iced coffee since I was still in town.

He encouraged me to do just that. *LOL* God I love that man! He said I more than earned it.

Then I came home to bury a guinea pig. *sigh* This was the second one to pass in a few weeks. Our other one (her son) died a couple of weeks ago (she was pregnant when we bought her, we got a buy-one-get-one deal apparently). They were about seven years old (the son was, not sure how old momma was) so they had long, good lives.

Later today, I get to bathe our bulldog with her medicated sulfur-lime shampoo and the whole house will reek of rotten eggs for hours.

Oh joy.

This is a pretty sucktacular day so far, all things considered.

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