blood tests-almost passing out at starbucks

One of the many joys in preparing for college for Daniel has been tests.

SATs, APs...

and blood.

I guess before setting foot inside a college these days they want to make sure you are healthy and fit and not liable to drop dead forcing the dean to make a very awkward phone call to your parents.

So I made the appointment for Daniel's physical next week. But they have to draw blood a week before so that all the info is in place for the doc to fill out her forms and give the big rubber stamp on the forehead that says

PASSED.

So Daniel fasts the night before and we get up early and head toward the clinic.

We have been blessed as families go being SUPER healthy and quite frankly I can't remember the last time that Daniel went to a doctor. Not once during high school, and as far as having blood drawn...hmmm. Never. So this was going to be a new experience.

We are greeted at the reception desk by one of those stereotype nurses that sort of scares you to death with her gruff attitude, but at the same time you know she is good at what she does. She tells us to "come on back" and we follow her down a narrow hallway to a station that is obviously designed for you to roll up your sleeve. She instructs Daniel to sit down on a stool and sizes me up with one look. Turns to Daniel and says,

"You aren't going to pass out on me are you?"

Understand that he has not even shown her his arm yet.

She must have observed something in him that I didn't even see because she shifted gears and moved him into a little room that had a chair with a back on it "so I can catch him", she says. Like the experienced nurse she is, she talks at him and jokes with him while tying his arm, swabbing the vein and poking him with the needle.

No problem. Of course, it is only a little blood, big deal.

More chit chat as she labels the two vials of his blood, reminding him that next week he gets a shot (meningitis vaccine, oh fun) and we are done. The whole thing took about five minutes.

Having fasted he is dying for coffee so we exit the clinic and he is feeling pretty good. It wasn't so bad. We laugh at the nurse and view the experience as over.

We are in line at Starbucks and as he is placing his order for a white chocolate mocha, it hits him.

"I feel light headed".

Me standing next to him realizing that we are in trouble. His lips are turning white, and the Starbucks clerk looks at him...

"Are you Okay".

Wrapping up the transaction(real quick) we speed him over to a table and chair trying not to knock over the other Starbucks clientele.

Now Daniel is looking like he hasn't seen the sun in a decade, the blood has completely drained from his face. I am busy sizing up the room figuring out how to get him to the car. We sit there while he takes a few deep breaths and then...

he wretches (now I know why they make you fast for twelve hours before they draw blood) and he dashes toward the men's room. I follow him and he stops just before the door. I figure I'll give him a second and go back to the table. Going back to check on him I find him on the floor in front of the men's room. He hasn't passed out yet, but seems to be on the verge.

"Let's get you out of here", and we dash toward the door, me prepared to catch him if he goes down.

We get him in the car and he puts his seat back and he looks okay but still kind of fragile.

And I start to laugh.

Okay, that sounds really cruel, and understand that my maternal sensors are at full blast observing every detail of his skin color, posture, etc, watching closely for any red flags that may indicate that something is seriously wrong.

But it is simply a highly sensitive person's reaction to never having their blood drawn. He had gotten so worked up internally about the unknown nature of this physical exam, that it took ten minutes for it to finally hit him.

The nurse had been right. But Daniel's timing is a little off.

So we get home and get him on the couch. Still feeling lightheaded, I get him some cereal and he begins to eat and relax.

And I start laughing again.

And he laughs too.

Ah, the joys of going to college.