Adventures in Blood Work Land

Today was the big day - I finally got my lab work done for my hypothyroidism.

Those that know me know exactly why this was a momentous occasion, but for those that don't, let me elaborate: I'm afraid of needles.  Not in the "Oh god, I don't want to do this but I have to" sort of way, but more like "We need two more nurses to strap down the patient and maybe a sedative."  I nearly always throw up, and I pass out a good half of the time.  I then spend the rest of the day in cold sweats and nausea. It's not fun and it definitely doesn't feel worth it at the time.

For the longest time, I actually thought there was something wrong with me; that my body actually rejected having my blood drawn and that's what caused all the fuss.  Then my cat needed blood work.  I held on to his fluffy rear to calm him and looked away, but the vet struggled to find a vein.  Five minutes later, I had to leave my poor cat with strangers to toss my lunch in the nearest toilet.

So yeah, fear.  Definitely fear.

And it's really not specifically needles.  I'm also afraid of bee stings, bug bites, splinters and glass shards.  Anything little that gets in your skin is all filed under the same fear.  The only difference is that you don't wake up in the morning saying, "For the betterment of my health, I think I'll schedule a wood chip in my foot."

The anticipation of getting a shot or having my blood drawn makes it infinitely worse.

I'm also not a very nice person when I'm afraid.  Where most people get nervous or recluse, I'm quite the opposite: I'm generally what's referred to as a heinous bitch.  So, if you can imagine the fear I felt going into the doctor's office today, you can also picture the hell that had just been unleashed upon the staff.

If that wasn't enough, someone wasn't listening when they made my lab appointment.  Or, at least, they didn't say a word to me in the process.  Having no health insurance, I have to pay everything out of pocket.  That means I budgeted exactly what I thought I signed myself up for: my thyroid lab work.  Turns out, my doctor's office had something different in mind.  Because I hadn't been to the office in some time, they wanted me to see my doctor first.  That's an extra $70 and seemed really unnecessary since all he'd tell me is, "Oh hey, you need your lab done.  Go do that."  It didn't help that this wasn't something I ever had to do before.  In addition, they were flat refusing to refill my levothyroxine if I didn't.

If I wasn't a bitch when I walked through the doors, I definitely was one now.

"You mean to tell me that you're going to spring a $70 doctor's appointment on me a second before my lab and then refuse the medication I need if I don't?"  The receptionist I was working with was a timid little thing and scampered off into the back to talk with my doctor.  The other receptionist, however, was not timid at all, and we began to butt heads.  "Well, when could you pay?" "Honestly? I don't know.  I. Don't. Know.  So get it figured out."  When I turned my back, I could literally feel her eyes roll.

Well, I know who I'm saving my projectile vomit for.

After 30 minutes of the timid receptionist being the messenger between me and my doctor's nurse, we finally got it sorted that my prescription would be refilled by just the lab and, if my levels were off, I'd have to come back in three months from now for a lab.  That made sense and aligned to how it had always worked.  Why the pain at the front desk?

I was about to find out.

The lab tech called me in very shortly after everything was sorted.  She was very nice and accommodating for once, but I fully believe someone tipped her off about the "psycho-bitch" in the waiting room.  That's cool.  I like being catered to when shit goes wrong and my stomach's already in knots.

She gently gets me settled in one of the smaller rooms and picks out my right arm.  As an illustrator, I'm a little riled about that, but as someone who's scared to death of what's about to happen and is already tired of fighting, I accept my fate.  I squeeze my husband's hand (oh yeah, he was there too) and begin babbling about how he has no idea how much I need his hand right now.  She sticks me and I clamp my eyes shut, forcing images of my dog to flash in front of my face.  And then she interrupts my thoughts.

"So they have you down for [insert seven different tests here that are not my thyroid check, potentially more but I cut her off]."
"Um, no no no no no.  No.  I'm only here for my thyroid lab.  I'm pretty sure I said that very clearly when I made the appointment."
"That's odd.  Did you see a doctor before you got in here?"
"No. I don't need to because I'm only here for my thyroid lab?  I seriously can't afford all of those tests."

At this point, I've totally forgotten about the needle in my arm.  My brain is too busy running numbers to care, since the total for those tests would be - and get this - $158.  That's $122 more than I anticipated walking in.

I'm also starting to draw connections between the mess at the front desk and this new information.  The reason why they wanted me to see a doctor before getting my lab is because they were testing me for practically everything.  God, they must have thought I was some kind of medical mystery.  If the lab order would have been just for my thyroid test, the fight at the front desk would have never happened.

But now I had a new fight: getting the lab order changed so that I wasn't killing my budget with new expenses for tests I don't need.

The lab tech was very nice and said she'd leave a note for the nurse of my primary, but she also wanted me to give them a call as well.  And that's certainly the first thing I did when I got home.  Of course, I just got a voice mail but, honestly, I prefer that.  Where I tend to stutter and stall on phone calls, I can be much more specific on voice mails.  I was also very repetitive, since apparently no one listens, stating over and over again that I don't have insurance and that I cannot afford $122 in tests that I didn't ask for.

Shortly thereafter, I fell asleep on the couch.  It was a busy day, and very stressful.   I woke up several hours later to this voice mail from the nurse:

"Although your insurance would cover the additional tests, we have cancelled everything but the thyroid test."

... I guess they listened to the important part.