They pricked my finger. I have perfect glucose levels.
They took my blood pressure. My blood pressure is fine.
They took my blood. I saw the vials. I didn't want to see the vials. Two of them. And I stared at them like a car crash, all woozy. And then he took them out of the room and out of sight. And then he had forgotten something and I was staring at them again.
Blood is freaky, damn.
The doctor then made me fight him. Squeeze his fingers as hard as I can. Use all my strenghth to pull his arms apart. Push them together. Other strenth tests.
Reflex tests.
Standing on one foot.
Apparently I'm in excellent shape. I'm in excellent shape and this is the one instance in which I didn't want to hear that. I'm in excellent shape, but I certainly don't feel like it.
It's frustrating. I felt even more lightheaded than usual on the way home. I got home and passed out for four hours. The blood they took, I guess.
The blood tests come back Tuesday. They're running everything they can. Testing for B12 levels. Thyroid problems. Insulin levels. Lyme disease.
"Have you come in contact with any deer ticks?"
I have a feeling these tests aren't going to give me any answers either. The next step from there is to see an allergy specialist and have him steal some more of my blood for some tests of his own.
My mother thinks I've acquired an allergy to wheat. The doctor agreed that that was very possible. He suggested I cut it from my diet for a week or so, just to see.
I'll do that come Tuesday, if all else is inconclusive.
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