Incompetence
Today, it has taken me three tries to get a blog written. I keep hitting one particular key that sends me out of the Dashboard and into Google-world. It is beyond frustrating and leads me to realize that I continually amaze myself with my complete ineptness in so MANY areas. I feel like a fraud, because I graduated from college with high honors, but only I know that I crossed fingers on both hands, stood on one foot and squinted through my eyes at my grades when they were posted, hoping for a good one. I generally never knew anything. I believe that is called "being a good test-taker".
I still never know anything. For example, I am the team mom on Sweet Girl's soccer team. I did not want to be the team mom. I tried not to be the team mom. BUT, when no one is the team mom, and all the other moms have the good sense to hold down real careers which might actually have real impact on the real world...how could I say no? I mean, it might cut down on my Facebook time, but I figured I could send out a few emails each week, make a few calls and bring water to the games if needed. (As an aside, a few years ago at a team party, I thought I was being funny when I told a couple of moms over pizza..."Everyone I meet in this town is a DOCTOR. ha ha ha"...blank looks. They were both doctors. Yeah. Moms all look the same on some level, but then you meet them in an examination room).
Anyway, not only did I fake my way through college, the one thing I always hated and was always completely terrible at, was scheduling. I have many memories (this is pre-computer-age) of waiting in lines to add a class I needed for graduation. I would add it, "YAY!", then sit down and see that I had added it in a time slot that I had already filled. This happened ALL THE TIME. I would have the little calendar schedule block thingy in front of me and somehow not see that 10 a.m. was booked on all days, then add another 10 a.m. class. It caused me great angst, but at least it only affected ME.
Now? I will laboriously check and double-check the team schedule. I will commit to memory which teams we are playing and when and where. I will then type up an email to send to 14 people. I will proof-read the email, cross-check it with both my written schedule and the one that is on-line. I will hit "send". I will have sent out SOME wrong information EVERY BLASTED TIME. Then I will have to compose the "ooops, email". Now, this not only affects me, but every parent (all doctors, remember, with busy schedules), grandparent, coach, ref and concession-stand worker.
It's getting old. The doctor moms might be delivering babies and discovering the cure for cancer, but really, I think I have the harder job. And my pay is WAY worse.
Anyway, my ineptitude in all things sort of crystalized in a bonding moment with the latest lab tech I dealt with.
On Monday, I had to have some blood drawn. Six weeks ago, I had blood drawn by the most amazing, most competent, most professional lab tech I have ever been around. (She most definitely was not team mom material). I was kind of excited, because in my adult life, I have been known as a "hard stick". I generally come home with two bruised inner-elbows (what is that part of the arm called anyway? The doctor moms would know), and a bandaid on my hand, which is where the blood is finally found. This woman (six weeks ago), hit my vein like she was drilling for oil with John Wayne, found a gusher, no pain, done in 10 seconds. Joy!
So, I assumed I would have her again.
No such luck. I tried to be upbeat when another young girl called me back. I tried not to think "oh no, herewegoagain" when she sort of prodded me for about 30 seconds, sighed loudly and prodded again.
"I'm a hard stick", I volunteered. "You can always get blood out of my hand though..it's slower, but it works."
"Oh," she said doubtfully, "We are out of the butterflies. I won't be able to do that".
(Out of butterflies? Isn't this a blood drawing lab? Shouldn't there be CLOSETS of supplies? Shouldn't doctors from all over town get their supplies from HERE?)
So, she poked my left arm half-heartedly and missed altogether. I mean, it didn't actually really hurt, because it was more like she just stuck me with a straight pin. Even she was amazed.
She went to my right arm. This one had to work. (No butterflies, remember?) She sighed, and pushed and prodded, looking for my stubborn vein. "They like to move" she sort-of-whined.
"I know" I said.
"I hope it won't", she said. "Me too".
"Here goes" (she actually said that). I looked away.
Anyone who has ever had blood drawn knows that when it hurts, they missed. This hurt, a lot. She kept the needle in, then squatted next to my arm and whispered to my vein, "Please don't move, please don't move, please don't move". I thought she might start praying out loud.
It took forever, and hurt a lot, but I was tough. When she pulled it out, there was a huge bruise. She was so apologetic and bandaged me up as though I had been through surgery.
I was SO NICE to her. Why?
She reminded me of me.
I still never know anything. For example, I am the team mom on Sweet Girl's soccer team. I did not want to be the team mom. I tried not to be the team mom. BUT, when no one is the team mom, and all the other moms have the good sense to hold down real careers which might actually have real impact on the real world...how could I say no? I mean, it might cut down on my Facebook time, but I figured I could send out a few emails each week, make a few calls and bring water to the games if needed. (As an aside, a few years ago at a team party, I thought I was being funny when I told a couple of moms over pizza..."Everyone I meet in this town is a DOCTOR. ha ha ha"...blank looks. They were both doctors. Yeah. Moms all look the same on some level, but then you meet them in an examination room).
Anyway, not only did I fake my way through college, the one thing I always hated and was always completely terrible at, was scheduling. I have many memories (this is pre-computer-age) of waiting in lines to add a class I needed for graduation. I would add it, "YAY!", then sit down and see that I had added it in a time slot that I had already filled. This happened ALL THE TIME. I would have the little calendar schedule block thingy in front of me and somehow not see that 10 a.m. was booked on all days, then add another 10 a.m. class. It caused me great angst, but at least it only affected ME.
Now? I will laboriously check and double-check the team schedule. I will commit to memory which teams we are playing and when and where. I will then type up an email to send to 14 people. I will proof-read the email, cross-check it with both my written schedule and the one that is on-line. I will hit "send". I will have sent out SOME wrong information EVERY BLASTED TIME. Then I will have to compose the "ooops, email". Now, this not only affects me, but every parent (all doctors, remember, with busy schedules), grandparent, coach, ref and concession-stand worker.
It's getting old. The doctor moms might be delivering babies and discovering the cure for cancer, but really, I think I have the harder job. And my pay is WAY worse.
Anyway, my ineptitude in all things sort of crystalized in a bonding moment with the latest lab tech I dealt with.
On Monday, I had to have some blood drawn. Six weeks ago, I had blood drawn by the most amazing, most competent, most professional lab tech I have ever been around. (She most definitely was not team mom material). I was kind of excited, because in my adult life, I have been known as a "hard stick". I generally come home with two bruised inner-elbows (what is that part of the arm called anyway? The doctor moms would know), and a bandaid on my hand, which is where the blood is finally found. This woman (six weeks ago), hit my vein like she was drilling for oil with John Wayne, found a gusher, no pain, done in 10 seconds. Joy!
So, I assumed I would have her again.
No such luck. I tried to be upbeat when another young girl called me back. I tried not to think "oh no, herewegoagain" when she sort of prodded me for about 30 seconds, sighed loudly and prodded again.
"I'm a hard stick", I volunteered. "You can always get blood out of my hand though..it's slower, but it works."
"Oh," she said doubtfully, "We are out of the butterflies. I won't be able to do that".
(Out of butterflies? Isn't this a blood drawing lab? Shouldn't there be CLOSETS of supplies? Shouldn't doctors from all over town get their supplies from HERE?)
So, she poked my left arm half-heartedly and missed altogether. I mean, it didn't actually really hurt, because it was more like she just stuck me with a straight pin. Even she was amazed.
She went to my right arm. This one had to work. (No butterflies, remember?) She sighed, and pushed and prodded, looking for my stubborn vein. "They like to move" she sort-of-whined.
"I know" I said.
"I hope it won't", she said. "Me too".
"Here goes" (she actually said that). I looked away.
Anyone who has ever had blood drawn knows that when it hurts, they missed. This hurt, a lot. She kept the needle in, then squatted next to my arm and whispered to my vein, "Please don't move, please don't move, please don't move". I thought she might start praying out loud.
It took forever, and hurt a lot, but I was tough. When she pulled it out, there was a huge bruise. She was so apologetic and bandaged me up as though I had been through surgery.
I was SO NICE to her. Why?
She reminded me of me.
posted by herewegoagain at
10:03 AM
5 Comments:
OH MY GOSH!
Can I just say...really? Ineptitude-in-blood-drawing seems like it should be job disqualification. PEOPLE, this involves PAIN! I gave blood about a month ago (SBA blood-drive thing on campus, of course I'm always the conservative-with-a-heart). They found the vein, they got the blood...they left me with a hematoma that was ugly for Casino Night AND hurt for days. Yeah. Job disqualification!!!
I laughed so hard at your remarks about college schedules!!! So, now-a-days, you do it online and the lovely little computer won't let you register for conflicting classes. Yay technology! Except, ALL the good classes are ALWAYS at 10:30. Why is that? Oooh ooh, maybe the powers that be over in administration are ALSO bad at scheduling! Dude, maybe we could start a support group..."Schedulers Anonymous." I'm thinkin this could work. There must be tons of bad schedulers and inept blood-drawers out there who are afraid to admit it....and just need to be loved.
By
amy, at 4:26 PM
I laughed so much at your comment. I think you are stealth-blogging on my blog. You have finally found where you can have a voice on the internet!
10:30 is the perfect time for class, so of course it's always booked. I bet there are lots of 8 a.m. slots available!
As to the blood drive? What did I always teach you? What????
"Never volunteer". That goes double for life supporting body fluids.
And I know you are going "ew" right now!
By
herewegoagain, at 6:08 PM
Of course I'm stealth-blogging on your blog!
Tons of 8 am slots of available, but of course, I wouldn't sign up for those classes even if they had them. Who goes to school at 8 am?
Well -- true (about volunteering). But giving life supporting fluids (ew) is usually the easiest way to feel good about oneself: 15 minutes, no cost, they give you oreos and orange juice and they say it saves 3 lives. Just saying. Hematoma was not advertised. I think there's breach of contract here....
By
amy, at 8:15 PM
Once again, weeping with sympathetic laughter here! All my life I've had no trouble with blood tests thanks to a lovely chunky blue vein in my left arm. But since being pregnant in China I've been subjected to what seems like hundreds, and the Chinese nurses are all so UTTERLY useless that every time I've come away with pain, bruises and actual SCARS on my arm (which was previously one of my better features). And I have to PAY for this privilege! I've now reached the point of refusing all tests unless they get me the most experienced nurse or the doctor herself to do it.
On the other hand, sorry, but I'm really really good at scheduling. Email me your soccer thing; I'll sort it for you!
By
leonora68, at 4:01 AM
Ok, so one semester, I had all 8 am classes. People who don't register when they're supposed to, that's who. Believe me. I learned my lesson.
I'm surprised that I didn'thave severe vasovagal episode when reading this one.
But, I did tell you about when I had the glucose tolerance test, right? Had blood taken every thirty minutes for a period of four hours. The last time, the nurse looked at me and was like "ya, your arm veins are cashed out, we'll go to your hand now"
I looked like a heroin addict for a month.
By
Unknown, at 4:18 PM
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