SH: Dr B said if I have the blood test at 8:00 a.m., I should stop eating and drinking at 10:00 p.m.
SH is having this lipoma cut out on Friday. A lipoma, for those of you who did not take the Dean Vaughn Medical Terminology course as part of the four weeks you spent working in the north Houston claims office when you were in underwriting training in your first job out of college, is a fatty tumor. He has had this lipoma since we met and whines about it but did nothing until I nagged him to go to the doctor. The main reason I wanted him to go was because I overestimated how much money to put in our EBRA account* and I don't want that money to go unused.
Ick. A blood test. I had an unfortunate incident last year that required many doctors' visits and lots of blood being drawn. Naturally, I passed out almost every single time because isn't that what normal people do when blood is extracted from their bodies? I have such a good vaso-vagal response that I passed out ten minutes after I had had my belly button pierced. Fortunately, the Bodacious Red-headed Pediatrician was in the car with me. Unfortunately, she was not the one driving, which meant that when Leigh, the driver, started to pass out in sympathy ("I have television!" she warned. "No! Tunnel vision!" I corrected, didactic to the last.), Doc and I had to yell at her to Pull over! Pull over! STOP THE CAR!
SH: But if I don't have the test until 10:00 a.m., just before the surgery, then I can drink beer until midnight. Right?
Me: Sounds good to me.
* My math is not that bad. I heard a rumor that imitrex was going generic. I called our insurance company and asked. Nope. Nope, it's not going to be generic, the pharmacist assured me. So I calculated a $50 copay every few months for the drug. One week after I submitted the EBRA paperwork, imitrex went generic in the US. Ten dollar copay. Great news, bad timing.