Caller ID said "Chandler Primar" and in that moment "Primar" equalled "primary" which equalled "kids school" which equalled "oh crap what's wrong with the kids?" Didn't matter that the school's actual caller ID says the school's name.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hi this is garblegarblegarble from Dr. D's office," she said.

Dr. D? Is this one of the kids' doctors? No, that's Dr. N. Oh, wait, I'm coming to my senses now: Dr. D is my new primary care physician. OK, I got it.

"Oh, hi," I said.

She stumbled on her words as she began: "Dr. D got your recent bloodwork back and everything looks fine. Your clotting numbers all look good."

"OK good," I said, relieved.

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Tonight I'm walking a fine line.

I usually prefer to wake up higher than the recommended fasting. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be sky high, but being over 110 really rocks my world because that means I don't have to eat anything before I exercise.

This morning for example, I was 116 mg/dL I believe. Had a wonderful walk that wasn't preceded by food.

Tomorrow morning, though, I'm having some fasting bloodwork done. And not until 8 a.m. Even on mornings when I walk I've usually eaten breakfast by 8 a.m. Remember last time I had bloodwork and woke up on the super high side and then wound up nearly close to low while I was getting my blood drawn? No? Well then read this.

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I'm waiting for the call from Susanne to tell me how awful it was.

Charlie is getting blood drawn as we speak. It's been a while since he's had to do this and I think he's forgotten how painful it could be.

Susanne reminded him yesterday that she was taking him for blood work.

"Is that the one with the needle in my arm?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"That's not so bad," he said bravely.

I was pretty shocked by his response. Typically he would cover his arm with his hand, throw himself down on the floor and stage a minor tantrum while spinning in a fetal breakdance position.

He's come a long way since December of 2006.

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I’m not afraid of needles, but I must admit that I’m a little fearful of the bloodwork I’m scheduled to have in a few weeks.
 

Since I finally found an endo practice that I enjoy (yes, I know I still haven’t blogged about it yet!), they naturally want their own bloodwork. Which is great. And fine with me. It’s just the type of bloodwork that’s being done that’s leaving me a little uneasy.
 

I know it shouldn’t. And, really, I’m not uneasy I’m just kind of … I don’t know… just nervous? anxious? curious?
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I made a note on my calendar to call Dr. S today about the bloodwork I had done last week. His nurse told me it may be a week or two before I got results and that I could call any time to see if they were in.

I got impatient (go figure!) and called yesterday. After going through automated phone Hell, I got to the voice mail of the nurse. Her mailbox said feel free to leave a message, but be aware that it may take me 72 hours to get back to you. *sigh*

So I left a message fully expecting NOT to hear from her any time soon. I considered calling again today, but even though I'm impatient I'm not a pest. Well, maybe sometimes.

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**I hate that almost every holiday has turned into a candy holiday. For several years now I have drastically cut down on the amount of candy I give the kids for Easter (along with other holidays). This year, I went shopping for presents and Easter basket goodies on Saturday, which depending on how you think about it was either a great idea or a terrible idea. There were not many choices left in the candy aisle, and about 20 of us standing around looking at reject candy. Being limited, though, was great. Each kid got about six of those tiny chocolate eggs, and about six plastic eggs that had a handful of Skittles or jelly beans in them. I was pretty proud of that. And then on Easter we went to a friend's house. There was an egg hunt. And Uh. Mah. Gawd. did they make out with some serious loot. I emptied all the eggs last night into our community stash of candy where we have Halloween, Christmas and Valentine's Day leftovers. The bucket is overflowing now. Grrr. (READ MORE)