***For the Non-Pregnants: the whole reason behind this 1-hour glucose challenge torture test is to see if I have gestational diabetes***
(and I’m guessing the “challenge” is to act like a civilized human being for an hour…in public…sans anything in your stomach but a ridiculous amount of sugar)
I’m not really sure who decided this was a brilliant idea:
And I’m sure you noticed my death grip on the bottle.
THE LAST BOTTLE OF GLUCOLA THEY HAD.
Thank God for an early appointment.
When I walked up to the check-in desk to begin the Hour of the Unknown, the receptionist/nurse lady was all, “Did you drink the Glucola already?”
Oh, well, usually people drink it ahead of time so they don’t have to wait an hour…so did your doctor give you some to drink?
Were these questions I was supposed to ask? I mean, let’s be honest, I was basically shoved out of my OB’s office all, “Call Quest! Make an appointment! Oh, and have fuuun!”
Nurse/receptionist lady was all, “Well, guess what? (I have no idea…life is full of sparkles!!..?) Today is your lucky day! We have ONE bottle of Glucola in the back.”
(That was my second guess)
Tim looked at me and was all, “Good thing because there was absolutely going to be a beat down at the OB’s office had there not been any…”
(You tell ’em, honey!…Wait…like, a real beat down?…Or a hypothetical one?…my brain is fuzzy…)
Nurse lady came back and handed me the god awful concoction, smiling, “Drink up! You only have five minutes!”
Tim and I found a corner in the waiting area and I opened the drink, smelling it – which I probably shouldn’t have done – but I did. It reminded me of pure, liquid Slushee – hold the ice. I started my task of downing it in my allotted timeframe, half gagging every time I had to take a swallow.
“My throat! It’s burning! Burning!….!” (think harsh, smoker’s voice)
Tim looked over at me with a side-eye all, “Seriously? Don’t be so dramatic. Two minutes.”
I stared back at him smugly and downed the remainder of the bottle all, “SO. THERE. ……….burning!”
My hour started at 7:49am.
The following transpired (mostly in my head) between 7:49am and 8:50am
7:49am: I’m finished! Yay!….*cough cough*
7:52am: “OMG! Honey! My pants! They still have fur all over them! You were supposed to get it off!”
Tim: My job was the back.
7:55am: Is it normal to already feel lightheaded and nauseous?….maybe I’m just over thinking things….but…no…definitely. feeling. off.
8:05am: Holy wow. Does anyone think about the baby with this glucola stuff? The sprout is literally kicking me so hard I can see it through THREE LAYERS OF CLOTHING. This is probably not normal.
8:11am: Nurse/receptionist lady begins a conversation with her counterpart all, “What time do our neighbors get here? Is it 8? Her car isn’t here yet but…”
(Why is this important? Or, better, how it is related to anything….at all?)
8:12am: loooopy…….hello, little pink friend….
8:15am: Seventy-five year old woman is here for the same test as me….guessing it has nothing to do with procreation…….hoping…she’s holding her purse too tight to her abdomen…now how am I supposed to be sure??
8:17am: OMG, sprout. The kicking…relentless! It’s not my fault! Blame the doctor! Blame the umbilical cord! Blame those pink elephants….?….wait…what?
8:23am: Nurse/receptionist lady, “I’ve been hung up on twice and forgotten about while on hold. This time, the fourth time I had to call your doctor, someone finally decided to admit they were stalling until the doctor got in at 9am…Seriously?! Grow up! What are we? Twelve?
(Touché, nurse lady. For the record, I wouldn’t have been that nice)
(And why is every single person who comes in having problems with getting their tests done?…Something to ponder when sober)
8:24am: I’m almost halfway! I think?! I’m sure I’m hovering over my chair, though. Someone really should capture this…
8:30am: Why did I forget my phone? Now I’m stuck with Readers Digest…and fifty things nurses won’t tell you. Score!
8:31am: An eight year old kid just came in…with someone who doesn’t look like his mom?…Odd…
8:34am: O.M.G. Eight year old just ripped one…not even trying to be subtle all, “twrrppbbfffffpppppppppp!……’scuse me!”
Self control…don’t laugh…count to ten…think of something really gross…but…the kid just ripped one!…OMG…annoying dude sitting next to the kid on the cell phone just had the Awkward Pause and stared at the kid like, “Are you kidding me? Did that just happen? I’m RIGHT. HERE.”
Tim side-eyes me again all, “Do. Not. Laugh.”
8:35am: …I thought I’d be hungry, considering I now have to make deals with myself at 2 in the morning to *not* get up and eat and then go through the I Know You Want to But WAIT in the morning before breakfast…but, I really just want to puke right now…especially after listening to the assplosion across the room…OMG. Kid just unabashedly ripped one!…[Tim: Do. Not. Laugh.]….
8:37am: Annoying cell phone dude is totally killing my glucola high….
8:42am: ….Harry Potter and the devil just walked in…and I’m not even sure what to think about this…Harry is wearing a cape, scarf, fake glasses and is about 30. Also? The devil has boobs…It’s like my life is a revolving comedy.
8:43am: I’m totally drunk…without the alcohol...
8:44am: Things to Ponder While High: Is Orowheat the Western version of Arnold…or is Arnold the Eastern version of Orowheat?…
8:45am: Fart child is back with the nurse/receptionist people…dear Lord help them all…but…wait…what is that I hear?! He’s getting a special band-aid? AND A PRIZE?! The hell? Everyone should be offered a prize when blood is involved. Especially pregnant women who haven’t eaten since 7pm last night…that’d be the right thing to do…
8:47am: Some lady is standing at the front doing the I Don’t Know What to Do Shuffle…do I stand here and wait?…do I go sit down?…stay here?….sit down?….maybe I’ll go sit down…annnnnnd just as her butt is about to hit a seat, out pops a nurse lady all, “Sandra!”
Guess Sandra should have picked door number two…
8:48am: Harry Potter is reading a bona fide library book…it’s like he’s trying too hard…besides, everyone knows Harry never read the books…that was Hermonie’s job.
8:49am: Wait…hasn’t it been an hour?…Wait…why is no one telling me it’s my turn to go into the back?…I guess I need to take matters into my own hands…make the pregnant chick do all the work…pfft.
(Please don’t pass out in front of Harry Potter when you stand up. I don’t think we could recover from that kind of embarrassment)
(Hold onto the pink elephant if you must)
8:50am: Nurse lady is about to poke me…oooowwie! Not a fan of needles…stop being such a wimp!…but…needles!…I really don’t know how drug addicts do it…
8:51am: Wait…I’m done? Wait…I don’t get a prize OR a real bandaid??
Apparently, pregnant women are not special enough for that kind of treatment. Noooooooo….we get a piece of gauze with scotch tape slapped over the top and these encouraging parting words from the nurse lady, “Hope you pass and I don’t see you again for the three hour! That one is AWFUL.”