A Physical

I'm no magazine model, but I feel like I'm in pretty good shape. There are a few extra pounds packed on here and there, but overall, I keep my body pretty healthy. I exercise, try to eat right, and get plenty of sleep. But I turned 26 this year and decided that it was time that I go get a physical.

Let me share my experience.

I arrive 15 minutes early to fill out paper work. Done.
I turn it in and the receptionist informs me that there is a co-pay. Ok, I expected that.
"Can I use a card?" I ask.
"No," she responds, "but we do take cash and checks."
Hmm. That caught me off guard. No cards. Just checks and cash.
"If you want to run to the ATM, then you'll have plenty of time to get back for your appointment," she says.
"I think I'm just gonna go search for coins in my car."
7 minutes later I walk back in the door with my dollars, quarters, dimes and buffalo nickels ready to pay my dues.

Eventually, the nurse calls me back and does some preliminary checks since it's been a long time since I've been to the doctor. She takes my weight, checks my ears, listens to my blood pressure...all good fun.

Her first question is, "So what's wrong with you today?"
"Nothing," I respond.
"What?"
"I'm good. I feel good. I haven't been sick. I just wanted to get a checkup/physical/tell me I'm not gonna die since I have some time." I didn't really feel like I needed to justify my visit, but apparently the look of confusion on her face lead me to do so anyways.
"So you aren't sick?" She scratched her head. "Usually we have to drag people in here kicking and screaming when they aren't sick."

Neat.

The plethora of information that follows is a quick summary of any high school health class mixed in with a little Wikipedia and WebMD. Don't drink, Don't smoke, Do wear your seat belt, Do eat an apple a day.

To get good results about my physical condition, they have to do some blood tests. Since I didn't know this, she informs me that the doctor will probably get me to come back in after I have fasted for the previous 10-12 hours.

"Crap," I thought "I have to come back."

She leaves. I wait.

As I'm sitting there, I begin to think about it. Wait a second. I didn't eat breakfast this morning. The last thing I ate or drank was last night, so theoretically, I have been fasting...just without knowing it.

The doctor comes in. I inform him of my revelation. He tells me that a good weight for me to maintain is when I stand in the mirror with my profile that my stomach is completely flat.

I laugh and laugh and laugh...silly doctor.

He does the rest of the physical stuff with breathing and tapping my stomach (which sounded like an oil drum) and making me follow his finger with my eyes. There was no "turn your head and cough"...which I appreciated. He tells me it was good to see me and the results will be back tomorrow.

Nurse reenters with all of her blood drawing gear and the festivities commence.
I lay my arm across the table and she pricks my elbow pit (does that have a real name?)
I watch in amazement. The sight of blood doesn't bother me, so as it draws up into the vial, I take interest.
She fills the first one up and I start to think..."Hey, this isn't too bad."
I can feel it being pulled out and it gives me a weird tingling sensation. It's crazy how your body works.
Half way through the second vial I'm starting to feel it. I haven't eaten in half a day. I've got nothing in me and this woman is sucking my life juice out. I begin to feel like a mortal kombat character is performing some sort of fatality on me as my determination and amazement slowly turns into woozy and lightheadedness.

"Do I get a cookie for this?" I ask.
"No, but you can have a lollipop" she quips back.
"I think I'm going to deserve two lollipops when I'm done."

Vial three. "Holy crap. Are you going to take ALL of my blood? Can I keep some as a souvenir? I felt fine when I came in, but I'm going to feel like a zombie when I walk out."
These are all of the things I said...

...in my head.

"You are starting to look a little pale," she questions, "Are you going to pass out?"
"We'll see"

and done. She gets the blood. I get a wet paper towel to put on my forehead as I stick it between my legs to regain composure. The sweat that breaks out pushes me to sprawl across the doctor's table as I think about loss of blood and why that could really be a problem when people get in accidents.

I get my lollipopS (one green, one yellow).
Each of the senior office ladies decides to chime in on just how pale I look.
"Thanks." Your tan isn't what it used to be either.

I made it out alive and I was pretty proud of myself.

After sharing this story with my dad, it turns out that I'm a pretty big wimp.
Apparently, the amount of blood that they took out of my arm wasn't nearly enough to fill even a shot glass...much less provide a sizable enough donation to a blood bank.

So maybe I'm not so tough.
Maybe I'm not the best blood taker in the world.
Maybe I'm not as fit as I thought I was.

But I will tell you one thing...

I got TWO lollipops.