White Girl Problem #45

Annabeth had to have bloodwork recently, a task that is not easy to accomplish. She doesn't do well with medical procedures, this oddly healthy middle Heathen, and some intreresting and dramatic times have ensued during her rare forays in to the world of hurty things to make you better. Yes, this is the child that told me she needed medicinal marijuana as the doctor was repairing her ripped off toenail last year. Usually an obscure quote or two and a nice threat of something vile happening (I'm a big fan of breaking off toes and fingers for some reason.) plus an ocean of tears (Another paranthetical here, God have mercy on whatever male falls for this one because the tears she can shed with those big blue eyes and the freckles and the...it's bad.) and she can be convinced to cooperate. I was feeling so bad that morning with my own health problems, I had to actually rely on Tradional Mothering Tactics and let the tech work with her patient. And let me tell you, this little girl was good. She did a great job talking to Annabeth, giving her a choice about where she wanted to be stuck, giving her time to process and breathe, didn't even look mortified when I replied "I don't know, it's been a while since I stabbed her" to questions about how easily she bled. Fabulous job with a difficult situation and things were going so smoothly. We were almost done and then "OH MY GOD! DON'T LET HER STAND UP!! LOOK HOW PALE SHE IS!" A nurse that had nothing to with Annabeth walked by and saw her face and decided she was about to pass out. She barged in, threw a trash can around and was barking orders to the tech, the tech who was doing an amazing job. I kept insisting Annabeth was fine. Annabeth said she was fine but this woman insisted my child was about to pass out and throw up. She was nice enough to get a cold cloth for us which really helped clean up from all the tears. Then she left. The point of this? Annabeth was not even pale. She's just one of my kids.