TheBanyanTree: A Biometric Screening

[Monique Colver]

In an effort to save money on our employer sponsored health insurance, we
agreed to do a biometric screening. It's bad enough that every time my
doctor wants to try to find out why I'm in pain it takes me months to pay
off all the accompanying bills, so we try to do what we can to reduce that.
For one thing, I don't go to the doctor for my easily. If I break
something, oh well, too bad.

We were going to do it a few days ago. They'd sent us a packet with
instructions, and we'd kept putting it off.

Then we noticed it had to be a fasting sort of thing, and we'd just eaten.

We were going to try again Monday morning, before I had a chance to eat.

Monday morning I overslept, and because I've taken to sleeping in
increments, so it takes me longer to get through a full night. And I had to
be somewhere in 15 minutes, so we rescheduled for today.

Today I overslept because of the sleeping thing, and Andrew had to be at
work by 9:30. He told me to get up so we could get this done.

It took me awhile, because when I'm in bed I have a phone, an iPad, and a
dog, so there's really no incentive to actually get up. I already have
everything I need, why get up?

Eventually I rolled out of bed (and I do mean that literally) and took a
shower. By the time I made it downstairs Andrew had finished his screening
and was waiting for me.

"Wash your hands thoroughly!" he said, and pointed me to the kitchen sink.
I'd just come from the shower, but it's important to have clean hands.

"You have to bleed on this card, at least four drops," he said, "So I'm
going to stick a needle in one of your fingers."

This in itself is no big deal -- I stick a needle in a finger all the time.
Well, not all the time. Occasionally, when I think of it, to test my blood
sugar. Not that often.

"Pick a finger."

In homage to the insurance company, I picked the middle finger.

He stuck the little needle in, and then squeezed my finger as I bled into
the little card. My blood is pretty slow, being all sludgy, so it took
awhile. It didn't want to drop, but at last four drops. Then another, just
to make sure there was enough.

"Okay, fill this out," he said, and gave me the paper that was supposed to
get all my vital statistics. I started writing with a pen I picked up off
the counter but quickly noticed that I hadn't stopped bleeding. The sludgy
blood, once it had finally realized there was an escape, was flowing
freely. I washed off the finger, again, and the pen, and the counter.

Ash backed away so he couldn't be caught in the deluge.

I looked at the blank spaces for blood pressure and asked him what he'd
said on his. He told me, and I said, "I think mine were lower last time I
was in."

Yes, I have a blood pressure thingie, but I don't use it. Why use something
just because I have it?

So I adjusted his numbers and was satisfied. For someone who works with
numbers all the time, my ability to remember what a good blood pressure
number is pretty deplorable. I always ask what it is, and follow up with,
"Is that good?"

I washed off my finger again because it was still bleeding.

Then I put a bandaid on it. Unfortunately we only had a generic bandaid and
nothing with superheros on them. This is the problem with my life, the lack
of superhero bandaids.

We finally got my tests and papers back in their envelope to mail out, and
they're now traveling back to insurance headquarters, or wherever these
things go.

Some days my life is more fun than I can possibly deal with.