Tuesday at 1.30pm I turned up at the pathology place to have my blood tests for iron levels, Vitamin D, B12 and… my glucose levels. Why I never thought to NOT have the glucose test is beyond me. It simply didn’t occur to me to question it. Oh, the woe that ensued.
The glucose test thing is to see if you have gestational diabetes. I had the test when I was pregnant last time and it was obviously a no brainer, because I barely remember it. This time? Ugh. I went in at 1.30pm, drank the bottle of hideous liquid sugar stuff and then had to sit for an HOUR. UNMOVING. Which would not have been such an ordeal if I hadn’t had to focus all my energy on not improving the decor with a technicolour yawn.
So you can imagine how thrilled I was to learn that my result had been too high and I had to return on Friday morning for a glucose tolerance test. A TWO HOUR one. I could only imagine that it was going to be doubly worse. I did a bit more reading (as opposed to the none I had already done) and found out that glucose tests are best done in the morning because your blood sugar goes up at the end of the day.
I suspected this was why my result had been ‘high’. Gah. Anyway. From midnight Thursday I had no food and no water and no nothing. At 9am they hoicked some blood out of my already bruised left arm, and then a bit more for the Vitamin D they forgot to do on Tuesday. I then drank the gross drink and sat on my arse. The nurse told me that there was no way I would be nauseous this time as I had an empty stomach. She was right. Thank GOODNESS.
At 10am they took more blood. From the other arm, to diversify a little. I sat for another hour. My iPhone was low on battery – and this turned out to be kind of cool, because I was then forced to sit and read the book that I had brought along Just Kids – Patti Smith’s autobiography as recommended by my uncle, who was in that whole scene. It’s greatl
At 11am they took more blood and I was free to totter out. Actually, I exaggerate. I felt a lot better than I had earlier in the week. I felt more like a camel than anything else. I needed WATER… M, Small Z and I went and ate sandwiches at a cafe and then M went to Boat and Small Z and I began a long journey home. This involved much skankiness and her actually falling asleep three blocks from home…
Naturally I then had to continue onwards, because one never wakens the Kraken. I did a ruminative drive to Flinders, raced out to use the public toilets at the beach (Oh yes, bad parenting or urinating on own driver’s seat? Not a choice I even bothered to dwell on. Have you seen this ‘bad parenting’ list? I have done everything on it except number four. Which makes me a queen of the genre…) and then got back in the car. She slumbered on. I did a few more laps of Flinders, cursing that there were no places selling cake that I could go to that had a view of ones car, and drove all the way back to Hastings at a sedate pace. Small Z woke up as we pulled into the driveway. She does it like magic.
My reward? A somewhat less skanky litt le lovely, and a text message from my midwife…
No gestational diabetes! And Have A Good Weekend! I celebrated with a happy dance and some lollies. Because I could.
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