Internet has been flaky all day yesterday, and this morning again. Which means you don’t get a post. Sorry! All I can say is go raid the folks on the side bar and I will try to get a post up whenever the Internet decides to grace my computer. I’m not about to sit here and try to type a long post in the iPhone I am not that good a typist. So there probably won’t be many comments today either.
And I have to go get a physical today anyway, which means sitting at the doctors office for God knows how many hours in addition to the vampire blood draw. And other assorted indignities.
Due to my easy to tap veins, the blood draw is no big deal.
Looking at the needle going in is a big deal, and I haven’t watched since taking an unexpected short nap while getting blood work done sometime in the very early sixties.
My father had finally been correctly diagnosed as having a borderline hemophilia problem, and my sister and I had to get some tests done.
The nurse drew the blood, I watched the needle go in and it was interesting, and then I remember a small cut, (yes it would have been easier to type, “a small prick” but I am not going there) a stopwatch and a disk of paper. Then I remember the sudden nap. It seems my subconscious really didn’t like the needle thing.
And gallons and gallons of blood and platelet donations later, I still don’t watch the needle going in.
It’s not until you start worrying about the RESULTS of the tests, that medical exams are truly aggravating. I had my last formal medical training in 1976, but I have been extremely fortunate that I didn’t NEED any more until 2005, when my test results started to get hinky.
Here’s hoping all your results are WNL (Within Normal Limits)!
May all your numbers be acceptable, and may the docs & assorted other medics be wasting their time (along with yours).
Just went through a whole series of tests.
Haven’t had a thorough physical since discharge in ’66.
All good..’cept he said I should quit smoking.
A good cigar, a little bourbon, a good joke is about all the pleasure that’s left.
Take a kid shootin’.
Doc says, “Boy, you is in turrible shape, jest turrible.”
Says I to the Doc, “You mean no more wine, women, and song?”
Doc says, “Oh, nuthin that extreme!”
I says, “Oh, dat’s a relief!”
Doc says, “You can sing just as much as you want!”
I says, “I want a second opinion!”
Doc says, “Okay. You’re ugly, too!”
I hope your doctor has small,skinny fingers.
+1 RevPaul