Take my blood, but hold the details, please!

K, I have a ba-dillion things to blog about (most of which my mom will be the only one to really care once I post them), but thought I'd share this loverly experience I had at Quest Diagnostics on Friday.

SINCE Tyler is now a thriving business owner (okay, maybe not thriving, but we're going to use a lot of positive speak when mentioning said new business venture) I had one final day of insurance so I went to have my blood work run (nothing exciting, just normal blood panel check-up stuff.) Of course I had to wait a bit, but it wasn't too bad, when the phlebotomist called me back to start the poking and prodding and sucking of the blood. Now, I do NOT want to sound judgemental, but I immediately take stalk in the pictures on the bulletin board and the demeanor of the woman helping me and I surmise that late 40 something, nearly balding woman is a tough cookie. She clearly has children and a couple of grandchildren, and based on the accent she is not from Vegas. By the end of our "visit," after poking both my arms, everything I had concluded in the first 30 seconds was confirmed. All and all it wasn't an unpleasant experience, if you don't count that the phlebotomist never once looked me in the face - wierd.

HOWEVER, as she was moving the needle around trying to run into a vein, another blood lady comes by our open door and announces that she's going to the bathroom. There was a quick, but kinda TMI conversation about how the other woman was telling my lady because my lady was "in charge" and since the other woman was planning on being "in there awhile" she wanted to let my lady know. At the time I had two thoughts, "My lady should really be focusing on finding my vein AND who in the world has such a candid conversation in front of patients." It only got better when the other woman came out. Here was their conversation:

Other woman: "Boy I'll tell ya. That sure spells R-E-L-I-E-F. I really had to pee."
My lady: "Oh yeah?"
Other woman: "Yeah, like you'd say, 'Like a racehorse.' I had to pee like a racehorse."
My lady: "It's because you hold it too long."
Other woman: "Nah, it's because I'm too fat. I got no bladder control."

Now, I understand that place is all about the fluids, but c'mon!!! I cannot remember being in a situation where I was witness to such an unprofessional conversation. Luckily on the second arm we were able to get the sample needed and I was out of there. I dunno, maybe I'm getting old, but conversations about the bathroom habits are best left to close friends, family, and the blogs. Sheesh!