Everything was fine when I could go to the lab associated with my doctor's office. They opened early, had several phlebotomists on duty and in spite of heavy volume had you on your way with a Spongebob bandaid in your elbow crook in record time.
Cue a switch in insurance. Along with it came a push for lab work to be done by a single-purpose lab with whom we had an independent contract. Ever the dutiful employee (and one who is cognizant of the costs of self-insuring), I trotted off to the new lab.
Urgh. I can't tell you what was worse, the yes-you-need-an-appointment, no-you-don't, yes-you-do tango, or the time I walked out to my car after the draw, only to discover blood running down my arm.
Fortunately, I moved. Time to find a lab on my new side of town.
Um, yeah...the first place I called said they opened at eight and needed no appointments. They did not tell me they were doing some minor remodelling, and would not be open the following Monday...
...when I sat outside the lab for several minutes, wondering why there weren't any other cars in the lot. Happily, I had also checked into a lab a half mile in the other direction, so I toddled off there.
Now it's six month later, time for another draw.
Sigh. It turns out the second lab doesn't open until eight-thirty. I had missed that fact on the visit six months ago due to the kerfluffle with the first lab. Factor in my constant earliness, and you have forty minutes spent in the car (in an eerily prescient way, I had tossed the Kindle in the totebag, so at least I had good reading material).
The girl was very thorough. And very deliberate. And very slow. By the time I finally left there (having been the first
Which, of course, was canceled.
I've already run the little rat maze this morning; where's my cheese?