The Blood Test
A sobering afternoon with my kid.
My daughter needed to go to the doctor. Among other things, she needed a blood test, and she hates blood tests. “I’m not sure if it’s the needle… or the pin-prick…or just touching my inner arm…” I get it. I’m not a lot better. But I’ve been hospitalized before. I’ve given blood. There was a time I thought I’d be a doctor. I coached her into the car, and I kept her calm as we drove to the clinic.
She asked if I could keep her company for the taking of blood. The phlebotomist politely permitted it. Leelee sat in the padded chair. I stood behind her and stroked her hair. She closed her eyes and reluctantly extended her arm. I enjoyed the game of keeping her distracted, telling her stories about whatever, laughing, her head was turned toward me but her eyes held tightly shut. I watched the nurse skillfully fill the vials with blood. There were a bunch. Lee was doing great.
When they were done they popped off the elastic tourniquet and Lee turned to look at the nurse cleaning up… and she caught a glimpse of the blood vials and just like that, I watched her eyes roll back into her head and her body got limp collapsing into me.
The nurse calmly snapped her fingers “Lee… Lee… can you hear me?” Lee wasn’t snapping out of it, and there was a momentary concern of staff coming to her aid and I don’t know what happened — seeing her passed out, her eyes gone, the sudden energy toward my child from the professionals—it was disorienting. You don’t want to see your kid like that. As the nurses were focused on getting her to snap out of it, I went weak. I could feel the darkness closing in.
A few moments later I could feel my eyes opening. I was on the floor. Now there were doctors swarmed around me. In front of me was Lee, who was also on the floor. We remained like this for a bit. I couldn’t quite focus but I could see Lee’s eyes now. She looked over at me and then turned to the nurse:
“Why is my dad on the floor?” she asked.
Lee had a team around her, and I had a team around me. She sat up before I did. They handed her a cup of juice. I was still unable to get up. I smiled meekly, as I was helped up onto an examination bed.
“Next time I’m going to bring mom,” she said, deadpan.
FUN FACTS: In case you’re wondering, this is called a vasovagal reaction (or syncope) — and it can be triggered by a number of stressful situations, including seeing blood, or needles, but also seeing someone you care about in danger or emotional distress. Your blood vessels widen, your blood pressure and heart rate drops suddenly, and you blackout. It’s an over-reaction of the body, and usually self-corrects after a few seconds, usually by laying down. Oh, and there is some evidence that the trait is genetic. QED.
