Okay so the title might be a bit misleading. I don't really know what a junkie's veins are like to be comparing mine to them. But nevertheless I gave up my primo parking space to leave work, go to the fertility clinic and have blood drawn as a prerequisite for IVF. (The very first time I have ever had blood drawn related to IF.) A lot of blood drawn--to put it in Starbucks terms; 3 shorts, and 5 ventis. It took two stabs, one in the left arm (I could have told you stabbing the left arm was just vindictive and would never produce any blood) and one in the right, to bring forth enough blood to fill the 3 small vials and 5 larger ones.
My work sheet says that will be doing an Obstetric Panel including things like RPR, Hepatitis B Surface AG, ABO/RH, and Rubella. And also testing for Hepatitis C Virus Antibody, HIV I & II, TSH, and ASAB. I don't know what even a 1/3 of those are without good ole Google to assist me. Dracula and I had a discussion about Cystic fibrosis screening. I declined due to both the cost ($580, not covered by insurance) and the very low odds that I am a carrier. I am just Evil Canevil like that. All total, today's charges come to $185 but they are going to file it with insurance to see if Papa Warbucks will pick up any of my tab. I will get a call in a couple of days (2 of the test, Antiboby and something else, are sent to an outside lab) to let me know if I have any cooties.
Hubby gets to met Dracula next Tuesday. The alphabet soup of things that they will be testing him for is much shorter. But he gets the added pleasure of also having to bring in a semen sample for analysis. Bring in being the key words as he found the last sample provided in office to be a totally uncomfortable experience. I sympathize with him. If the end result of all this depended on me having an orgasm in a dr's office, it might be 20 years or never before we had a baby. I am just not that voyeuristic.
Damn, my left arm is already showing signs of bruising. I wish that I had worn long sleeves today. Now I need to go think up a story to tell my co workers when they ask what happened to my arms. Perhaps "a 10 year old boy fell down a well and bumped his head and only my blood donation at Red Cross can save him." Yeah, that is totally believable. I think I will go with that.