Thursday, January 17, 2013

Deployment Journal - Day #188

You know that Ripping-A-Bandage-Off-A-Deep-Wound feeling?  That necessary agony you try to quell by convincing yourself that it's necessary?  Yeah, that was this morning.

First, we had to wake up.  (Don't even question the immensity of this.)

Second, we had to be back to another doctor's office by 8:00 again.  And it was -6 degrees.

Third, today's appointment involved several blood tests for Little One.  They needed slightly more than 4 cc's.  Out of an itsy-bitsy, teeny-tiny, baby vein (sorry, Sweetie - my genetics, not your dad's!)  

Also, we had to wait for 55 minutes in cruel anticipation of her blood draw.  Combine terrified adrenaline with no breakfast, a squirming toddler who cannot leave your lap, (filthy floors, ew!) fast-forward two hours, and you have me, right about when they finally called her name.

She was beyond a trooper.  After two tourniquets, twenty minutes of debating and poking and hesitating, they summoned this elderly, Asian gentleman - the best phlebotomist on earth.  

We're now officially way past naptime, but she's just looking at everyone inquisitively wondering why we're all so tense.

He finally found a vein.  A microscopic one.  I had to hold her on my lap, clamped between my legs.  I tried to distract her and make her look away by dramatically waving scissors and rubber bands.  He got into her vein finally.  There was digging involved; her eyes shot open and tears began pouring out.  Her whole body started quivering, and she let out these out jerky, little, punctured cries, and I tried to soothe her while also trying to restrain her.

The tears kept rolling and rolling, but she was so brave.  She whimpered - most adults would have done far more - but turned her head against my chest and bit her little lip, and held totally still.


The whole lab applauded when she was finished.  

"What a trooper!"
"My gosh, I've never seen a kid take it so well!"
"How did you train her to DO that?"

Wish I could take credit, but she was born like this.  When we'd bulb syringe out her nose, as a newborn, and practically waterboard her with nasal saline to stave of Reflux attacks, she would cry and cry - but, always tried to smile at us while simultaneously sobbing.  It was kinda amazing.  

Maybe she sensed our approval, and maybe that has fed her desire to be brave, but I don't want her to ever feel like she has to be too brave.  She's just a wee little girl.

Still, she seriously has been like this since Day #1.  I swear.  Husband will confirm it.

But, they wouldn't believe me.

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