Dracula's Den.

In the midst of all this Holy Week (during which I hate to confess, I have been my least Holy in a very long while) I had to take Miss SQ No 2 for a whole lot of blood tests, for a few symptoms which have been cause for some concern.  I admit outright, that I have a pathological hatred for hospitals and all other things medically institutional, so am perfectly equipped for a trip to the pathologist's waiting room. Yup, I know the secret slipped out a few blogs ago, that your Suzy Q tramped more than a few wards and sewed up more broken heads over weekends than she is given credit for. My dears, if only you knew the sights and sagas I've seen, but my family snigger and swear I faint at the sight of a mosquito bite these days, maybe they are right, and motherhood has softened me into a meek little mouse. But therein lies the rub. It's all very well jabbing anti-tet and lignocaine into some drunken skollie's overloaded system before doing a bit of basic embroidery on their numbskulls, quite another seeing one's own baby quivering and quaking awaiting sutures whilst a trickle of blood drips down from a playground wound. Catch Mommy whilst she faints.

Yet, I still feel better equipped to escort the Misses SQ to these appointments than Mr SQ, who barks instructions at the staff with regard to their aseptic technique. This lingo he has learnt from me, but his manner is a way of masking his fears that anything medical may be amiss and he is, for once, out of his depth.  My fear is that he will antagonize the staff into jabbing my already frightened children all the harder, as retribution for reminding them that they should indeed be washing their hands before they even think of touching any equipment or the patient at hand.

So poor, quivering little Miss SQ 2, who is also a teeny bit on the over dramatic side (I swear I never said that!) and I waited nervously, and pretended to be patient, whilst the waiting room filled up. We were assured that we would be attended to shortly, whilst four phlebotomists watched on, idly, and one clerk processed, painfully slowly, the next victims. We watched a thoughtfully placed video of vials of blood being transported to the lab, and as a mini diversion, paged through magazines featuring all the diseases we were dreading. It was a fabulous half an hour. Please, please, please Pathcare, can you rather lay on cartoons, Looney tunes and girly or travel magazines to avert us from the fears that lie ahead - they being the imminent needle and news of a disease we all dread.

Finally, we were summonsed in to the chamber of doom. Dracula where are you? Your own little mouse, whilst grasping the hand of her baby, enquired politely which type of hand sanitizer the phlebotomists at this practice used. (Subtle hey, gals?) She confidently pointed at a plastic jar, and assured me that she had used it earlier in the day. Uh oh, not ok!! She must have seen my somewhat shocked look, for she immediately sprayed her hands, but not before she had opened all the equipment, and I just tried not to faint as six fat vials of blood were drawn from my child's arms, and prayed that nothing untoward would be found. Amazing what one's blood can tell about our health and lifestyles when you think about it. Aids, alcohol, cholestrol, drugs, glucose, hormones, infection, white cell count, you name it, it's all in those little red cells we take for granted, circulating every second around our systems, and keeping us alive, and hopefully well.

And, I'm exceedingly happy to tell you, our worst fears were unfounded, and perhaps there is some minor cause for our baby's recent symptoms. As my dearest eldest sister-in-law reminds me, "your health is your wealth!" She would know, she works in a Haematology clinic, and has surely seen it all.


Bless you all, and here's to giving thanks for and looking after our health!


Suzy Q xx