Testing, Testing: One, Two, Three . . . Four?

I am afraid that the only thing more boring than listening to someone else's health problems in great detail is having someone explain his or her dreams to you. So, in the interest of being less boring, I will skip over the dream I had last night (vivid and interesting as it may be to me) and explain quickly the three-hour glucose tolerance test that I underwent on Thursday. (Trust me: I'll be quick.) First, the fun 12 hour fast. Then, upon arriving at the lab, blood was drawn just to make sure that the test could be performed. Next, a half-hour wait for the results from that test. That part of the test I passed, so I could move on to the next part: drinking ten ounces of a very sugary solution (called "glucola," which is actually a cute little name for a vile little drink). I never drank Jolt Cola, but imagine that is what it tastes like. After consuming the solution, I headed back to the waiting room to . . . well, wait. Movement is discouraged, as it can affect the outcome of the test, so I sat and sat and sat, trying to get comfortable, but never quite achieving comfort. At least I brought something with me to read. Blood was then drawn one hour after drinking, then two hours, then three hours. I got over being hungry after a few hours. I had to have all of the blood draws from my left arm, though, as my right is always quite stubborn and won't show a clear vein.

After the test (four blood draws in three and a half hours), I didn't feel as bad as I thought I would. I drove home and made lunch. As I ate lunch, I started shaking and felt dizzy, so I decided to lie down for a few minutes before heading into work. Hours later, Jeff came home and woke me up. I hadn't realized I was so tired. I should get the results of said test this coming week when I have my doctor's appointment.

Now, about this dream last night . . .