The Torture Begins

After talking to the doctor, who was very nice, he decided we needed to draw blood to check my blood count and check for strep throat because I had developed not only white spots on my tonsils, but black spots as well. Which meant the tissue was dying.

After the doctor left and a little bit of waiting, two young people came into my room. They checked my tag to make sure I was the right person and after confirming that, told me they were each going to take and arm and draw blood from it. At the same time. Wait, hold up, stop the train. WHAT?!? I hate needles and getting blood drawn and I'm probably dehydrated so my veins are going to be even worse than normal and I can't hold my mom's hand?!?! You've got to be kidding me. So I took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling and tried to comply to the two people's wishing they were asking of me.

While they poked me about 16 different times and dug around as well, the guy on my left kept trying to talk to me and have me answer his questions. He was asking things like where I went to school and what classes I was taking. First of all, I'm going through a freak out right now and am about to have a bitch fit because the two of them were hurting me and I couldn't look anywhere but the ceiling or I'd see a needle which I didn't want to see, so I had no idea what's going on. Second, I'm not completely coherent due to me having a fever of 104 and being in pain. Third, my tonsils are so big that they throb when I'm not doing anything with them so making me talk is not the way to go. They hurt worse. Plus, I sound like someone who has a mental disability because I can't move my tongue properly to form the words to answer his questions. So I'm laying on that uncomfortable bed, in a gown, trying my hardest to sound normal and completely failing, tonsils hurting worse, still extremely hot from the fever, getting poked a 20 times and digging the needle around, and just in all around pain while this dumb ass is trying to talk to me about school.