Operation Mini-skirt Status: -28.8 lbs.
Days to England: 9
Mood: Not bad, considering my legs feel like rubber and I had to have blood drawn from my poor, shy veins this morning...
So, all weekend long, no matter how much potassium supplement I ingested, and regardless of the fact that I ate all my required protein, I just could not get some decent strength into my body. My legs felt like rubber all the time, even when I was sitting down. And I was freezing, even under the covers. It was really worrisome, frankly. This is how I felt when I first went on the nazi-diet, so my doctor upped my potassium intake to decrease the weakness. I may not like weighing this much, but I'm not enough of a nutbar to suffer through the shakes for it. So fine, all is well for 7 weeks - until Saturday, when the rubber legs thing started again. I was in a mall, and I swear, I had to sit down every half hour. I started to really freak out, and if it wasn't for the sales I kept seeing, I'm telling you, I would have passed out!
Anyway, this morning, I spoke to my doctor, and she increases my daily potassium intake yet again, but this time, it's not just in regular pill form. No no. Now, it's a big orange disc-like thing that I have to drop in a glass of water, so that it implodes and fizzes, releasing a mildly offensive odour of fake orange. Not only that, but I was also given a requisition to get blood drawn to check my body's natural potassium levels. (I may be wrong on the specifics of that one. The nurse that gave me the req. is a low speaker, so I just took the form and nodded like she made sense.)
I make my way to the blood lab, where Wonder Nurse works so that she can take a stab (ha!) at getting something out of my arm. See, I always go to her, because I've got shy veins. That is, my girls don't lie too close to the surface, and they're hard and thin and shaky. I'd never make a good heroine addict. A couple of years ago, it took 15 pokes over three days to get something from me. My doctor tried, her nurse tried, I went to two different labs and, out of desperation, my aunt the registered nurse. Finally, I resorted to the ER so that someone who is used to finding veins in babies' heads could give it a go. Three days, the insides of both arms - leaving them looking bruised and track marked - the inside of my left wrist, and finally, FINALLY, a generous vein was found in the back of my right hand, with a pediatric needle. Even then, the guy who did it almost didn't get enough as the vein collapsed before he was quite through.
So yeah. That's why I go to the Wonder Nurse I found a while back. But horrors! She's not there today! Now what am I going to do?
After much deliberation, I decided to stay and let someone else try. However, I went in armed (ha!) with specific instructions.
"Listen Missy Nurse," I said to the 12 year old wielding the samurai sword with a test tube attached. "Wonder Nurse always gets it in this arm, and she always uses a pede needle."
She looked askance at the idea of a using a paediatric needle on a seemingly robust, 28-year-old woman, however I was taking no chances. They'd use a pede, or a leech, but no way were they using something that was probably thicker than three of my veins put together.
"No buts," I said.
"Do you really think it's neces-"
"Yes, I do."
You know what the best part of this story is? I was right. We got it in one go, even if the needle didn't enter as smoothly as it does when Wonder Nurse handles it. Frankly, it felt a little like Draino going in, but whatever... two minutes later, I was done. Better than having multiple jabs.
* * *
Yesterday, I went to a Jehovah's Witness Kingdom Hall meeting. My uncle converted from Roman Catholicism about 20 years ago, managing to scandalise all members of the family both here and in Italy at the same time. Anyway, 20 years later, and we're still a little leery of it all, but he was scheduled to give a 45-minute talk that he'd been working on for weeks and weeks, and he invited us to attend. Teacher and I, along with my parents, kind of had to drag ourselves there, but go we did, and smiled nicely through the whole thing. Uncle J.W.'s children, my cousins, wisely, if rather discourteously, left right after his talk. We stayed 'til the end.
Right to the two and a half-hour end.
Mind you, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. I was afraid I was in for a diatribe about fire and brimstone, and the evil of birthday cakes and blood transfusions. Still, I doubt I'll try it again. I have trouble believing our own stories. Listening to others just may put me into a theological tailspin.
Today is Monday. The start of a new week, and an incredibly busy one for me, as I've much to do before I can leave the country with some peace of mind.
Much love, y'all. Catch you tomorrow...
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