so i had to get a physical for the united methodist church. i haven't been to a doctor since i've lived in annandale, so i randomly chose a practice that was reasonably close to my house and had doctors' names that seemed pleasant to say. my appointment was yesterday at 8am, and i approached the 70's style architecture with great trepidation. after great length and filling out numerous forms all asking for the same information, i sat down in the wood-paneled waiting room and flipped through a 6-month old copy of vogue, if only to discover what shade of lip gloss would compliment my skin tone. as soon as i had determined that i best fit the 'olive' category, but before i discovered the appropriate shade for my lips, my name was called by a stern looking nurse and i entered the hallowed catacombs of the doctor's office. having entered the mysterious back hallways, i proceeded to sit in a sterile room and read a variety of material on breast cancer detection while waiting what felt like several hours for the doctor with the pleasant name. when she finally arrived i discovered that she was only the physician's assistant, and that her name was not particularly pleasant to me. she then asked me all the questions that i had already answered on the numerous forms. after she seemed satisfied with the precision with which she had dizzied me with her intense barrage of questions, she proceeded to poke and prod me, shoving various measuring instruments into most of the orafices of my body. i even had to turn my head and cough while wearing something she referred to as a 'gown' which was much more like a bib. but all of this, from the brady bunch decor to the extremely awkward genital exposure, was a cakewalk compared to the last leg of the journey. the nurse came back in the room and announced with a wonderfully sensitive tone that she needed to take some blood. i immediately began to reel. quickly, i tried to regain composure. "you can do this," i said to myself. "just breathe and focus - think about sports. okay...man the yankees suck. how are they playing below .500 baseb...HOLY CRAPTHERE"STHENEEDLE!" i continued this internal conversation, desparately trying not to pass out. at one point i remember sighing loudly to which the annoyed nurse responded, "it's coming...it's just a little slow," as if this wasn't excruciating for me.
i hate giving blood even more than i hate going to the doctor.
today i have a nice sized bruise on my arm, which looks like i was clubbed on the inner elbow by a wwf-sized muscle man. but that's not what happened. i rather wish it was. instead, i was unfortunate enough to have to suffer through a process that includes a sharp metal needle, the sucking of my very life-blood from my body, and the fake smiles of a mean-spirited sadistic nurse and her unpleasantly-named cohorts. this is why i don't go to the doctor.