So, I wrote recently about my um, affinity for fainting.
I did it again.
Caleb and I had an appointment yesterday, a class really, and I might as well go out and say it since it does seem to be common knowledge. We're tryin' for a little bambino. I hate this phrase, "We're trying", there are some mental pictures I'd rather not invoke, this being one of them. But, there it is. That's what we're doing. And it ain't workin'.
So there we were sitting in a room with half a dozen other couples, ready to learn The Art of Conception. Lovely title for an infertility class, I half expected to walk in and listen to a few old ladies tell us to relax and "be at one with our bodies". To root around for herbs and wait for the full moon. I dreaded this. Thankfully there was no talk of rubbing my stomach with the underbelly of a toad, or drinking a glass of water while upside down and singing the Alphabet song.
Or maybe that's the hiccups.
Anyway, they went over all the tests we'd need to have run, where to go, what to do, and the like, giving us the paperwork and lab requests so that we could get started. We even walked out with a specimen cup to bring back at a later date (much to Caleb's relief). My favorite part of the two hour class was the question and answer section. A few of the men were asking specifics on dropping off their sample, and one man raised his hand and in all seriousness asked, "Can we ship it?" A few people snickered, and he apparently thought he'd clarify and added, "Well, I mean, like, FedEx it."
Um....no. You can't. Sir.
Once the class was over we decided to go get my blood tests done since we were so close to the medical center. This sounds like a wonderful idea, in theory.
Except that it was 3 pm and I hadn't had anything to eat since my yogurt at breakfast. And I had a monstrous headache.
As I sat down in the chair waiting for the vampire phlebotomist to draw my blood, Caleb foreshadowed what was to come by (maybe he jinxed me...) reminding me that I've had problems giving blood in the past. But this was different, this was just a blood draw, I argued. I've survived several of these in tact. No worries.
Then the technician pulled out five vials. My eyes went a little wide and I began mentally preparing myself. You can do this, it's not that much...just breathe deeply...
I knew I was in trouble when she'd drawn a vial and half. I began searching the room, feeling my arms, legs, and head go tingly. Then I started to feel sick. I thought about maybe telling her that I was going to pass out, butI thought I could maybe hold on, just breathe through it. I glanced down to see how many she had left and was pleased to see she was done.
And that's all I remember.
I finally came to a few minutes later, my eyes focusing on the bright lights directly above me. And this is the part of passing out that is the most surreal, the few seconds you spend wondering why all of these people are in your bedroom. Because that's what it feels like, it feels like you've just woken up in the morning, and it takes a while to register that no, that's not your alarm, but frantic lab technicians and your husband calling your name and shaking you.
This is where I always get the giggles. The embarrassed I-can't-believe-I-just-did-that-again giggles. Because yes, I'd done it again. And it's so routine now. Alright, give me my apple juice. Let's get this over with.
I have at least two more blood tests to schedule in the next few weeks. Note to self: bring your own apple juice. Be prepared.
