The Joys of the Glucose Test

So today was the day I had to squeeze in my glucose test.  I tried to push it back since this is my last week of work and I hate to be out any more than necessary, but the nurse I spoke to was having none of it. She said it had to be between weeks 24 and 29 and it was "very important."  Barf.  I think it is a blanket test to cover tails, but I tend to be a bit on the cynical side when it comes to some things doctors do.  Still, I do want this baby to be okay and if there is some chance that they (the doctors) know something about gestational diabetes that I don't (highly probable) I suppose we should find out if I have it or not.  Is it arrogant to say I highly doubt I do?  Is it ignorant to say I don't believe I am at risk?  I mean I know bad things happen to the healthiest of people but in this case I just don't believe it will.  Jason wishes I'd just smile and go along (which I did to all but him...and now you), and so I underwent what I thought to be an unnecessary, annoying waste of my time.

Unnecessary because I'm as healthy as an ox.  The whole point of eating right and exercising is to avoid things like diabetes.  Annoying because I needed to be there by 7:00 a.m. to hopefully get this thing rolling so I could get to work, and I would have preferred to spend that time running in the rain or doing my weights video. And then they ask you to do two things they tell pregnant ladies NOT to do, which is to fast and then pour pure sugar into your system.  Hold on one minute.  I know doing it once probably isn't going to hurt anything, but what if I don't even want to do it once?  And what if I like my pure sugar in the form of an Oreo at night after dinner?

So I went in and waited in the waiting room as my stomach churned with hunger.  They eventually called me back and I had my first tube of blood drawn before drinking the sugary "Fruit Punch" labeled drink (which I downed like a champ).  I then had to wait an hour before more blood was taken, and then one more hour before it was taken again.  That should have been 3 needle sticks, but I got the benefit of four because she missed the last stick.  And let me say, it hurts when they miss.  Not unbearably, but it definitely felt wrong.  I don't mind being stuck with needles, but three times in one arm seems a bit excessive.

Surprisingly, I felt okay during all of this. I didn't get light headed, weak or nauseated.  I had a tiny bit of a headache toward the end, but as soon as I ate something afterward, it was gone.  The little girl in my tummy was unaware of her mama's woes and wiggled around as I sat in the waiting room reading my book.  I got to overhear the four nurses banter with each other and other patients coming in to get stuck with needles.  The nurses whined about being tired, being hungry (I could sympathize), not having enough supplies and then stealing supplies from each other.  It was all done in good fun and was certainly entertaining to me.  One big guy came in and hollered when they stuck him, and the nurse threatened to put duck tape over his mouth.  Another lady was grouchy and in a hurry, constantly telling the nurse she had to leave.  A little boy came in and despite his cries, I thought he did really well.

So despite my griping about it, it is done and it wasn't so bad.  Of course now, instead of sitting at work I'd rather be napping or running in the rain.