I slept until 11 because I wanted to live the first half of my day completely obliviously. My thought process: "No, Kenz. You're not getting steroid injections today. You're not going to feel like hell and you're not going to cry all your makeup off. Thankyouverymuch."
So I get to the clinic where a new nurse was being trained in. Not nervous, oh no. Girlfriend is qualified and I should let her do her job. Where's the sarcasm font on this thing? I did, though and it was all good at first. Then she was all like, "let me get the doctor." And me? I was like...
Doc comes in the room, brings in another doctor who's training (this is great for my anxiety), explains the procedure, and makes me put on a hospital gown... Toga style. No seriously, he said that. So I did. And that was awkward because my bra straps were sticking out. Meanwhile, my mom is sitting in a chair laughing because she knows how weird I am about stuff like that. Reaaaaaal funny, woman. Let's strip you down!
I lay face down on the table, he pulls over his little cart with all
10 sixteen billion injections on it, and explains how they'll feel like mosquito bites. That sounded promising since Minnesota is infested with them this time of year. Nothing I can't handle.
Surprise, surprise... The doc is a big ole LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FYYYYYYYYA. I have no idea what kind of mosquitoes are biting him, but I would rather slam my head into a brick wall and smash my pinky finger with a hammer before I EVER experience that again.
Oh, and the 10 injections we initially talked about? Turned into 11... Then 12... I stopped counting after 15. Cue the ugly cry.
Then he stops for a hot minute and asks, "how are you holding up?" "DUDE, I'm fine! These mosquito bites are exhilarating!" Just kidding.
The entire procedure took around a half hour and then he wanted to run some blood tests to check my inflammation levels. I figured it couldn't get much worse and agreed to go ahead with it.
The nurse I mentioned in the beginning of this rambling mess comes back in, looks for a vein for 10 minutes, and right as she's about to poke me says... "Ya know, I'm not sure I can get a vein. Let me get the doctor."
The doctor comes waltzing back in and starts tapping around on my measly little arm. He pokes once, but nothing comes spurting out. He grabs an ultrasound machine. WHAT? I didn't even know that was a thing. He pokes me twice more and gets the vein, but no blood. At this point?
After 20 minutes more of playing "how fast can we make Kenzie drop like a fly," we figure I'm probably dehydrated and we find out my blood pressure has dropped significantly since the beginning of the appointment. Wicked sweet.
Right before we left, he put his arms in the air and told me to punch him in the gut. I laughed so hard I snorted and the snot nose I'd developed from crying totally splattered at him. I'm not even sorry.
We gave up on the blood draw and now I have to report back on Friday. YEAAAAH buddy.
I made it home fine and my mom let me get Chipotle, so I was a happy camper. Collapsing on the couch and changing into a stretched out sports bra never, ever, EVER felt so good in my life. I took a peek at the damage, too, so that was fun. Itty bitty
bruises mosquito bites, anyone?!
Then I whimpered all night, made my little brother play servant, chugged water, and watched Camp Rock while writing this blog post and trying to find the bright side of the day. Yeah, I don't even know.
Here's to a new day that's going to be a bazillion times better than yesterday... Even if it sucks!