The fainting man
If you have a history of fainting when having blood drawn, here’s a tip: tell that to someone beforehand. That way you can avoid causing the exciting and memorable, albeit awkward, scene I created Saturday morning.
For years, my parents hounded me about getting “blood work” done. Despite the fact the last time I had blood drawn for testing was the week before I started eighth grade — almost seventeen years ago — I refused. A few weeks ago, though, I may have had an allergic reaction to Brussels sprouts (I was woozy for a whole day after eating them) and my parents’ pleas to have my blood tested became relentless. I cracked and accompanied my mom, who was also having blood drawn, to a local lab Saturday morning.
I was not a happy camper. Not only did I have to fast for twelve hours, ingesting nothing but water, I do not like having my blood drawn. Blood and needles by themselves do not bother me, but needles going into my veins? Fuck that. My aversion to the process is perhaps the only reason why I waited so long to have blood drawn again, and also the reason I was not the most enthusiastic patient. I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. I did not want to make a big deal out of it — and also not mention the fact I have fainted before.
I did not think it was a big deal. The reason I fainted the first time, when I was ten, was mostly from shock. I assumed they were going to prick my finger and collect the blood on a piece of paper. I had had that done many times before and expected it again. Nope. From what I recall, a nurse sunk a needle into my arm and pulled the blood with a syringe. Horrified, I closed my eyes and tensed up, fighting against it. At one point, the nurse told my mom I would likely break the needle (I did not). When it was finally over, I relaxed and fainted.
I always assumed I fainted because I was traumatized. If I did not look this time, I thought I would be fine. No need to say anything, so I didn’t.
After checking in at the lab Saturday morning, I went first. It was a one-man operation, so the guy checking people in also drew blood. He led me into a room, had me sit in a chair with high, padded armrests, and made idle chit-chat as he nonchalantly got to work. I felt a minor sting in my left arm and kept my eyes straight ahead, responding to his questions. After a minute or so, I felt myself gradually weaken. I was fading slowly, and as he worked on my arm (probably just finishing up) I casually said, “Hey, um… I’m gonna pass out for a second.” I made an effort to tilt my head so it would rest on my right shoulder and was out.
I went to a happy place. It was a featureless void, colored a deep, earth-tone greenish brown, and I was completely content there. I was relaxed and unconcerned. There was a murmuring in the distance, but that did not bother me. I was there for a while, and then…
I was staring at two faces. My vision was very blurry but I could make out two faces. Who are these people? I wondered. Where am I? How did I get here? For a moment I was very confused and alarmed. Why had I been taken from my happy place? A figure was standing in the doorway, looking at me, and then disappeared. Finally, I recognized my mom and the technician. Someone said, “You fainted.”
“Oh,” I said. “Okay.”
I was apparently out for about thirty seconds. The technician was aware my mom was also there, so when I fainted he ran into the waiting room calling “Mom! Mom! He fainted!” Everyone else in the waiting room was very alarmed and concerned, but my mom assuaged their worry by saying, “Oh, he does this.” To wake me, the technician and my mom began slapping my face. A man who was waiting with his daughter also came back to check on me. When I finally regained consciousness, the technician told me to start coughing and my mom and the man from the waiting room got me some water. (The jug on the water cooler was apparently empty, so the guy threw it off and then ripped off the plastic connector on the next full jug — which you are not supposed to do, at least with those kinds of jugs. It worked regardless.) The technician had to stay with me until I felt well enough to walk, so I drank water, coughed, and then laid on a padded table while my mom had her blood drawn. Finally, after a long delay — the whole operation basically stopped while I recovered — my mom and I returned to the waiting room where I continued to drink water and cough for about fifteen minutes. Thankfully, the lab had closed so the only people who were inconvenienced were the father and daughter and another guy. They were all kind enough to be understanding.
The technician said I fainted because I had been fasting; my blood sugar was low. It is apparently pretty common. Though I was not embarrassed or ashamed, the technician said even Iowa football players faint (he did not name names, though). The next time I have blood drawn, he told me, I need to tell someone that I have a history of fainting. Instead of sitting, I should lie down and bend my knees.
I’ll remember to do that — in another seventeen years.
For years, my parents hounded me about getting “blood work” done. Despite the fact the last time I had blood drawn for testing was the week before I started eighth grade — almost seventeen years ago — I refused. A few weeks ago, though, I may have had an allergic reaction to Brussels sprouts (I was woozy for a whole day after eating them) and my parents’ pleas to have my blood tested became relentless. I cracked and accompanied my mom, who was also having blood drawn, to a local lab Saturday morning.
I was not a happy camper. Not only did I have to fast for twelve hours, ingesting nothing but water, I do not like having my blood drawn. Blood and needles by themselves do not bother me, but needles going into my veins? Fuck that. My aversion to the process is perhaps the only reason why I waited so long to have blood drawn again, and also the reason I was not the most enthusiastic patient. I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. I did not want to make a big deal out of it — and also not mention the fact I have fainted before.
I did not think it was a big deal. The reason I fainted the first time, when I was ten, was mostly from shock. I assumed they were going to prick my finger and collect the blood on a piece of paper. I had had that done many times before and expected it again. Nope. From what I recall, a nurse sunk a needle into my arm and pulled the blood with a syringe. Horrified, I closed my eyes and tensed up, fighting against it. At one point, the nurse told my mom I would likely break the needle (I did not). When it was finally over, I relaxed and fainted.
I always assumed I fainted because I was traumatized. If I did not look this time, I thought I would be fine. No need to say anything, so I didn’t.
After checking in at the lab Saturday morning, I went first. It was a one-man operation, so the guy checking people in also drew blood. He led me into a room, had me sit in a chair with high, padded armrests, and made idle chit-chat as he nonchalantly got to work. I felt a minor sting in my left arm and kept my eyes straight ahead, responding to his questions. After a minute or so, I felt myself gradually weaken. I was fading slowly, and as he worked on my arm (probably just finishing up) I casually said, “Hey, um… I’m gonna pass out for a second.” I made an effort to tilt my head so it would rest on my right shoulder and was out.
I went to a happy place. It was a featureless void, colored a deep, earth-tone greenish brown, and I was completely content there. I was relaxed and unconcerned. There was a murmuring in the distance, but that did not bother me. I was there for a while, and then…
I was staring at two faces. My vision was very blurry but I could make out two faces. Who are these people? I wondered. Where am I? How did I get here? For a moment I was very confused and alarmed. Why had I been taken from my happy place? A figure was standing in the doorway, looking at me, and then disappeared. Finally, I recognized my mom and the technician. Someone said, “You fainted.”
“Oh,” I said. “Okay.”
I was apparently out for about thirty seconds. The technician was aware my mom was also there, so when I fainted he ran into the waiting room calling “Mom! Mom! He fainted!” Everyone else in the waiting room was very alarmed and concerned, but my mom assuaged their worry by saying, “Oh, he does this.” To wake me, the technician and my mom began slapping my face. A man who was waiting with his daughter also came back to check on me. When I finally regained consciousness, the technician told me to start coughing and my mom and the man from the waiting room got me some water. (The jug on the water cooler was apparently empty, so the guy threw it off and then ripped off the plastic connector on the next full jug — which you are not supposed to do, at least with those kinds of jugs. It worked regardless.) The technician had to stay with me until I felt well enough to walk, so I drank water, coughed, and then laid on a padded table while my mom had her blood drawn. Finally, after a long delay — the whole operation basically stopped while I recovered — my mom and I returned to the waiting room where I continued to drink water and cough for about fifteen minutes. Thankfully, the lab had closed so the only people who were inconvenienced were the father and daughter and another guy. They were all kind enough to be understanding.
The technician said I fainted because I had been fasting; my blood sugar was low. It is apparently pretty common. Though I was not embarrassed or ashamed, the technician said even Iowa football players faint (he did not name names, though). The next time I have blood drawn, he told me, I need to tell someone that I have a history of fainting. Instead of sitting, I should lie down and bend my knees.
I’ll remember to do that — in another seventeen years.
