From his perspective aka A really bad idea

Last night, a nurse lady came to our house to  torture us take our blood as we are planning on changing our life insurance policy.

Let me just make one things clear: I DON’T LIKE NEEDLES.  I had three babies ala naturál for a reason, folks.  Because I DON’T LIKE NEEDLES.  I avoid them at all cost.  I avoid them like I avoid math and science.  I avoid them like I avoid crickets.  I avoid them like I avoid the flippin’ plague.  If a needle being shoved into my body can be avoided then I AVOID IT.

So, I was not thrilled when Lee said we had to have this done.  I reminded him that we had just had this done not long ago and I remember because Sloan stepped on that nurse lady’s scale and broke it and she left a little peeved.

Lee reminded me that that was easily 3-4 years ago.  Blast!

So, when the nurse lady showed up, my hands immediately started sweating as did my upper lip.  Lee got all giggly because as she asked me all the family history questions my voice was curt and my words clipped.  I’m healthy as a horse and as family histories go, mine ain’t too shabby.  I was hoping that she would click her ball point pen, straighten up and proclaim me a fine specimen of health and waive the need for a blood draw.

She didn’t.

So Lee went first.  And while she was prepping him, I busied myself getting dinner on the table for the kids.  In retrospect, we probably should have had her draw the blood in a different room rather than at the kitchen table while the kids were eating.  But I wasn’t thinking about the kids in that moment.

I was thinking about how I was possibly going to avoid passing out in front my family.

As I prepared the drinks, nurse lady stuck Lee’s arm.  And our kids, who are fascinated by all things bloody, stopped mid-bite and stared…in horror.

“Uuuhhh…what is she doing to daddy?” Sloan asked, pizza rolling around on his tongue.

“She’s just testing his blood,” I replied and then swallowed so as not to hurl and further escalate the situation.

Clapping his hand over his eyes, Sloan suddenly got very dramatic (where does he get that?!).  “I don’t want to watch,” he said, his voice all shaky.

“You don’t have to watch, buddy,” Lee said.

“Please stop,” Sloan said.

“Why?” Nurse lady asked.

“Because.  I don’t want my dad to die!”

We all chuckled (well, I tried to chuckle, anyway).  “Honey, daddy’s not going to die.  You don’t die from getting your blood drawn,” I said. (Yeah right – what if you do?!?!)

“Uh-Yeah!”  Sloan exclaimed, dropping his hand and looking at me with very wide, very concerned eyes.  “Don’t you remember Marley?  They put a needle in his leg and he died!”

And we all laughed heartily.  Then Lee pretended to fall over dead.  And Sloan laughed with us…but it was more of a Hahaha, I’m totally serious about this but you all are laughing so I’m gonna laugh along even though I don’t get the joke sort of laugh.

Once we convinced him that nurse lady wasn’t actually trying to put daddy to sleep, he went about his business eating his pizza – though he did keep a wary eye on nurse lady as she prepped me for torture blood work.

And, I am happy to report that I did not faint, although Lee did stand behind me when she jabbed, erm, stuck me just in case.  There was a moment when she was switching tubes and she accidentally pulled the needle out of my arm causing blood to bubble up, which all around freaked me the kids out.  One look at my horrified face and nurse lady quickly assured me that she got enough in tube one so she wouldn’t need to restick me.

Good.  Cause I’da had to get ugly.

And that is the story of the day we nearly put Lee to sleep. 

According to Sloan, of course…