2009-05-31
The Russians
I post this not because this kinda represents everything I find wrong with Sting (I mean, other than "The Bride") but because it's a lame tie-in with this entry.
It's late spring, and, as it is with me this time of year, I'm doing my healthcare rounds. On Tuesday I go in for my mandatory biannual mammogram/ultrasound (because my boobs are like chicken cutlets stuffed with superballs), and this past Friday afternoon was spent in the company of The Russians.
My primary care physician, the RN who takes my vitals, the receptionist and my phlebotomist are all from Mother Russia. They are all also EXTREMELY no-nonsense, to the point of being gruff and almost....not exactly RUDE, per se....just very blunt. This of course is PERFECT for me. I find that I look forward to my annual physical with a combination of terror and delight.
"You still do not smoke or dreeenk?" she asks me, and when I answer in the affirmative, an eyebrow shoots up for a split second before she pronounces me a "good gurl."
So on Friday, she sent me upstairs to surrender three vials of my blood. "If there iz anything wrong, I call you." I always kind of secretly hope there IS, like maybe my cholesterol is totally jacked, so she WILL call me at, like, ten o'clock at night the way she did two years ago to tell me my biopsy was fine, but that my breasts were "fool of ceeeeests."
Now, I have some fairly big-ass tattoos on my person. You would think that needles wouldn't be a problem for me. But I hate - HATE - having blood drawn. It freaks me out. So the phlebotomist had me make a fist, and I turned the other way and promptly went to my Happy Place, where there are cupcakes and petticoats and rainbow-shitting unicorns. I was jolted from my little reverie by the phlebotomist barking "LEEESA!"
"Unh?"
"I tell you to STOP MAKING FIST."
"Sorry. Sorry. I just can't look at the...blood."
She snorted. "Why this upset you? You see blood every month, yes? It's SAME BLOOD."
I blushed hotly.
Forget Christmas. This, for me, is honestly the most wonderful time of the year.
But then clearly I have issues.
lisamcc at 6:15 p.m.
3 comments so far
vikkitikkitavi
2009-06-01 16:01:23
Aw, once they starting toasting with the vodka, Russians become like pussycats. Try having a German boss - blunt doesn't begin to cover it. Although one time after an employee party when he'd had a few drinks, I asked him if JFK, during that speech in Berlin, really did call himself a jelly donut, and he admitted that, in fact, he had, and then he started giggling. Priceless.
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Lynette
2009-06-10 05:48:47
Why did I click Play on that damned song? I don't run into as many Russians down here as I did in Boston. The last one I encountered almost got me leaping onto her back with my teeth sinking into her neck. She was a cranky impatient dental hygienist giving my anxiety-disorder kid a hard time at his first dentist visit. She made him cry. I weighed the impact of jail time for a single mom. I opted for a withering glare and written feedback to the dentist. Next time, I will be the lioness to her bitchy gazelle.
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GBF
2009-06-14 19:15:28
Seriously, though. How CAN I save my little boy from Oppenheimer's deadly toy? Which is now the term that I will always associate with your menstrual blood. Much obliged.
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Stumble It!
