Since today was the third day of Zoey's fever, I decided to take her to the pediatrician even though I knew what the outcome would be: "No other signs? It's viral. Give us a call in two days if she's not better. $25 copay, please."
Yet we still went.
Apparently every child in the county is sick because there were no empty seats in the waiting room. I have no idea what was ailing those kids, but I'll find out in seventy-two hours because Zed decided to lick the examination table before we left. Yum!
After the doctor examined Zoey, he gave me the diagnosis I had expected. And then he added, "We'll do a blood test to rule out anything else."
"Blood test?" I asked.
"Yes. A blood test."
Oh hell.
Unlike last month's splinter incident, I decided not to tell Zoey what she was in for. The nurse came in a few moments later.
"Zoey, I'm going to prick your finger. It won't hurt a bit," the nurse said.
"WHAT?" Zoey screamed as she turned to me.
"I'm going to prick your finger with th--"
And then the wailing started. Zoey started freaking out so the nurse had me hold her down with one arm while keeping her other arm straight. The nurse pricked her finger, grabbed the capillary tube, and explained to Zoey that she was drawing the blood with the tube.
After about fifteen seconds of less-than-optimal capillary action, the nurse said, "Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Could you ease up a bit? You're acting as a tourniquet." I then weakened the death grip I had on her arm and the blood sped up the tube. After we were done, Zoey was allowed to choose a plastic trinket from the prize chest. All was well.
On the way home, Zoey asked me, "How did they get the blood out of my finger?"
"They pricked your finger with a tiny needle."
"They did? I didn't feel a thing."
I'm sure she didn't. But her screams were heard from a mile away.
GHS: 6
Song of the day: Blood Makes Noise by Suzanne Vega
Prick
