So this morning I got up at sparrowfart and dragged myself reluctantly into town to go have a blood test done. I have been working towards this with my counsellor for weeks and weeks, and being as I haven't had one for over a decade, I really wanted my cholesterol and other important stuffs checked out.
The lovely ladies at the pathology lab ushered me right in ahead of a dozen people there before me, because I was so frightened, bless! I was so ready, I was practically humming Eye of the Tiger under my breath as I walked into the clinic.
And I failed. A big, fat failure with a capital-F. The phlebotomist found a vein alright, but it really would have helped if there had been any significant amount of blood forthcoming.
(on a side note, how freaking ugly does my hand look here?)
In all my preparation and positive thinking, I had honestly not contemplated, even for a second, that it wouldn't work for this reason. If anything, I had expected to flip out and not go through with it - I was convinced that, if I let that lovely lady stick me with the needle - which I did, several times! - it was going to bloody (pardon the pun) work! Talk about anticlimactic.
I was given orange juice and reassurances, and some Emla patches for next time. I walked out into the parking lot, got into my car, and sobbed uncontrollably for about 10 minutes. I felt like Such A Failure. *sigh*
I did eventually pull myself together and get some perspective - and realised that I hadn't failed, the test had. Damn my fine hand-veins, with their lack of adequate blood supplies! (medical peeps, would this perhaps explain why my hands always go numb and white when they get even a little bit cold??) I am determined I'm gonna go back and try again - this time (eep!) in the arm. We shall see how we go.
V is back from Canberra tonight, yay! He picked me some lavender, nawwww :)
A glass of wine, catching up on some of my fave blogs, a good way to turn around a not-so-good morning