Giving blood
Dec. 30th, 2008 10:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rhienellethSo, Mark and I had to go in for blood screening this morning, some things as simple as cholesterol, some more complex for the egg donor thing, in case we want to pursue it. Some things required us to fast from about 8:00pm last night until we went in this morning.
Most of you know that Mark is hypoglycemic. The last time he fasted for his wisdom teeth, it totally f-ed him up and he ended up passing out on me when I was trying to help him into bed. Nothing quite so scary as having your 165 pound husband suddenly go dead weight and you're not strong enough to stop his fall to the hardwood floors.
So, today we go in for our blood screenings, and we have to wait for like forty more minutes because OHSU never faxed them "orders" for the blood work. We finally get in (and I HATE needles, in case anyone doesn't know that) and there are seriously 16 vials sitting there.
"Are those all mine?" I ask.
"Yes," says the lab tech.
"Like just for me, not for me and him?"
"Nope, just yours. He has his own."
I try not to freak out while I sit down and take off my coat. Sixteen vials of blood later, I am relieved to have it done, only only feeling slightly light headed, probably more from the needle still stuck in my arm than the blood, though I did not watch them draw it because that messes with me, too. Mark jokes with me (but is also kind of laughing at me) to distract me during the process. Then it's his turn. I leave to go next door and pick up the vitamin supplements my doctor wants me to start taking. By the time I get back, Mark is in the chair and they're drawing blood from him.
The first thing I notice is that he's really, really pale.
"How many do you have?" I ask.
"We're almost done," answers the lab tech.
"That's good," says Mark, "because I'm about to pass out."
"I can see that," I say, a little alarmed as I eye his paleness again and note the glazed look in his eyes.
Lickety split, another lab tech pops over with a cold pack for the back of his neck, and a can of apple juice. I tell them he's hypoglycemic, and ask Mark if I need to go grab his glucose pills from the truck. He doesn't answer, because even with the cold pack, his head is hanging down and he's out for a good thirty second to a minute. He finishes off two cans of apple juice while he sits there for a bit, and then the lab tech reveals that he only had four vials to fill. Four, to my sixteen, and he's the one who passes out!
I would find this more amusing if I wasn't certain it was more due to his low blood sugar than anything.
Anyway, fasting + my husband do not mix well. This is the second time he's had to fast and ended up passing out.
Most of you know that Mark is hypoglycemic. The last time he fasted for his wisdom teeth, it totally f-ed him up and he ended up passing out on me when I was trying to help him into bed. Nothing quite so scary as having your 165 pound husband suddenly go dead weight and you're not strong enough to stop his fall to the hardwood floors.
So, today we go in for our blood screenings, and we have to wait for like forty more minutes because OHSU never faxed them "orders" for the blood work. We finally get in (and I HATE needles, in case anyone doesn't know that) and there are seriously 16 vials sitting there.
"Are those all mine?" I ask.
"Yes," says the lab tech.
"Like just for me, not for me and him?"
"Nope, just yours. He has his own."
I try not to freak out while I sit down and take off my coat. Sixteen vials of blood later, I am relieved to have it done, only only feeling slightly light headed, probably more from the needle still stuck in my arm than the blood, though I did not watch them draw it because that messes with me, too. Mark jokes with me (but is also kind of laughing at me) to distract me during the process. Then it's his turn. I leave to go next door and pick up the vitamin supplements my doctor wants me to start taking. By the time I get back, Mark is in the chair and they're drawing blood from him.
The first thing I notice is that he's really, really pale.
"How many do you have?" I ask.
"We're almost done," answers the lab tech.
"That's good," says Mark, "because I'm about to pass out."
"I can see that," I say, a little alarmed as I eye his paleness again and note the glazed look in his eyes.
Lickety split, another lab tech pops over with a cold pack for the back of his neck, and a can of apple juice. I tell them he's hypoglycemic, and ask Mark if I need to go grab his glucose pills from the truck. He doesn't answer, because even with the cold pack, his head is hanging down and he's out for a good thirty second to a minute. He finishes off two cans of apple juice while he sits there for a bit, and then the lab tech reveals that he only had four vials to fill. Four, to my sixteen, and he's the one who passes out!
I would find this more amusing if I wasn't certain it was more due to his low blood sugar than anything.
Anyway, fasting + my husband do not mix well. This is the second time he's had to fast and ended up passing out.
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Date: 2008-12-30 07:18 pm (UTC)Luck!