Stainless Steel Needles

I there any better topic than powerlessness?  I can't imagine what it would be unless someone wanted to talk about humility.  Most of my problems are the direct result of me trying to seize power over something which isn't me.  Which is everything.  I need to keep my hands off of everything.

I've been trying to get caught up on my medical appointments before I leave town.  My standard technique is to think about making the appointment for a while, worrying about the catastrophic results that will be delivered to me and my grieving family by grim-faced medical professionals.  This, unbelievably, is a big improvement over drinking Seaweed who worried but never made the appointment, worrying, worrying, worrying until he was a big knot of anxiety.

Phlebotomist:  A practitioner of phlebotomy, which is the opening of a vein, either to withdraw blood or for letting blood.  

Worrying about health is one of the most ancient of my ancient-ist riffs.  It's always in play.  I can always come up with some potential crisis that might strike me down in the prime of my life, even though that was about 25 years ago.

I did my eye appointment last week.  All was fine.  I'm not going blind and I don't have any cancers of the eye.   That they could detect.  I spent two years in optometry school before they kicked me out so there's only so much bullshit the optometrist can pull on me.

I did my annual check-up today.  All was fine, except when they tried to draw blood from my skeletal, ropey arms the needle kept "rolling" off my vein - whatever that means - so that they couldn't do anything but make me very, very nauseous.  They wanted the blood to do a cholesterol check-up.  Last year they wanted some of my blood to do a cholesterol check-up AND to quantify my PSA levels.  I didn't know what either of those things are so I opted out.  I would have had to have gone to an outside lab to get the blood drawn, which I did not do, mostly because I get nauseous when people stick very sharp needles into my body.  It's not my thing.  I don't know what my thing is but needles ain't it.  If you want to poke stainless steel under my skin you better provide me with a compelling narrative.

The very apologetic needle lady tried once, and failed.  She asked if she could try again.  I gave her a tepid thumbs up, stomach rolling a bit.  She tried again, and failed.

"OK," I said.  "That's going to be about it for today."  She was very apologetic.  She also stepped back to what I assume was beyond average projectile vomiting distance.  I got up and wobbled out of the clinic.  I was so pleased that they didn't find any horrible cancers or fatal degenerative conditions that I let them throw in the blood test as a good will gesture, but enough was enough.  I didn't do the test last year and lived to tell about it.  If cholesterol starts oozing out of my body I'll go get it checked.  They didn't mention PSAs.

The coup-de-grace was the dentist.  Dentists stick very sharp stainless steel needles into the mucous membranes inside your mouth.  This sounds like some kind of Medieval torture routine.  I don't trust dentists.  I'm sure they're fine people doing fine work but they really have you at a disadvantage.  They look inside my mouth and find stuff - they always find stuff - which is very expensive to fix.  They deliver the news solemnly.  They suggest that if you don't fix the stuff that even worse stuff could happen that would require more needles and high speed drills.

What are you supposed to say?  You're at a disadvantage.  Dentists have almost as much power as auto mechanics.  They always find stuff, too, and I have no frame of reference to challenge them, either .

"Mr. Seaweed," they say.  "Your Johnson Rod is shot.  You really need a new Johnson Rod.  I would feel guilty letting you drive out of here with your Johnson Rod in the condition that it's in."

What am I supposed to do?  I can't even open the hood of my car where the engine thingy is.  I don't know if my car has a Johnson Rod.  I think my mechanics sit around and come up with the most ridiculous things to see if I'll buy them.  If I don't know whether or not my car has a Johnson Rod I sure as shit don't know what a new one costs.

"Give him an estimate for $300," I imagine them whispering.  "I need a new sump pump."

My dentist did come up with about $3500 worth of things to fix.  He came up with them 6 months ago and I didn't fix them then.  I'm sure I'll need a Root Canal Operation.  That was his new technique: if you don't fix this now it'll get worse, not necessarily causing any pain, until you need a Root Canal.

He doesn't know who he's dealing with.  I'm a recovering alcoholic.  I have an almost infinite capacity for pain and a stubbornness that's legendary.

It make me a little queasy even reading the definition of phlebotomy.