Day 2: The Blood Thickens

"Ah!"

"Time to wake up, you're restricted from water starting now, go to the bathroom if you need to."

"Uh...OK."

My day started with a flashlight shining in my face at 6am. Despite the fact that I was a little groggy, I still managed to comprehend what was said. They* took away my water bottle and the hustle and bustle began.

Around 7, 10 or so coordinators suddenly appeared in the room and began frantically prepping for the day. Needles were pulled out, gloves were put on, I was asked, "Have you had any changes in your health?" approximately 700 times, and then the IV's began.

Now, I've never had a really big deal with watching needles or putting them in (Not that I do that often or ever.), but I do have an issue with a piece of metal sitting around in my arm for extended periods of time.

"There's going to be a pinch--" the girl said, as she poked the first needle in my left arm.

No big deal. Apparently I just had to sit there for another hour while they coordinated all the medications and doses and doctor jargon. Then came the time for the study to actually begin.

"Have you had any changes in your health?"

No, again.

"OK, you're going to sit up suddenly, swallow this dose, drink this small water bottle, and then IMMEDIATELY LIE BACK DOWN."

They said this part pretty seriously, so I just nodded because you don't make someone with a needle in their hand upset.

"Five...four...three...two...one...Go!"

I swallowed the dose as quickly as I could (Because I'm a champ at races and I WILL beat everyone else in this study.) and then downed the water bottle and laid back down. Another girl came around my shoulder to draw blood out of the IV that had been prepped.

"...Nothing is coming out."

What?

"We need to do another IV. Now."

Since this was all a timed operation, they needed to quickly draw blood out of my other arm. The girl quickly grabbed another IV set and went to work.

"I don't meant to rush you, but you have 30 seconds." another girl told her. I started to feel like they were defusing a bomb, and I was the bomb--especially since everyone else's arms seemed to generously be giving up their blood. What's the deal arms? Why the sudden stage fright?

"Small poke..." she said, while I could see her brow furrow as she mentally counted down the clock. I actually applauded that she was able to get in as quickly as she did (Not that I doubted her, but if I was in that position, I totally would have just stabbed and said, "That's what you get for having thick ass blood.")

"...Shoot."

I could see the tiny dribble into the vial as my arm refused to give up blood. I did congratulate my body on its ability to recognize when it should be clotting, or seizing up, but now was not the time! Cooperate, goddammit!

I could see that she just wanted to shake my arm and scream, "GIVE ME THE BLOOD." but she retained her composure rather well. Instead, she just reached for a single needle, stabbed it into my arm, drew the blood, and told me the IV would work later.

Over the next few hours, people hovered over me ("Have you had any changes in your health?"), prodding me with more needles (and eventually removing the IV in my left arm that was there for backup "just in case."), measuring my temperature, and writing in their little books. It made me feel kind of special to have so many people fawning over me making sure that I hadn't passed out and died.

Over and over, the process continued with another coordinator. They would come up to my janky arm, try and get a blood flow, slap my arm around a bit, and eventually be relieved that they got enough out to call it good. I was silently cursing my slow blood flow since these moments usually pushed the IV around a bit. It's like in the "Mummy" movie franchise where the monster scarabs crawl around some antagonists skin until they become a skeleton...except way less disgusting and seemingly more blood** (because I guess I drip a little bit).

The time passed, the routine continued, I wheeled my heart monitor to the bathroom like an invalid, my arm continued to be defiant, and then eventually it all came out. No more needles, no more blood, and they gave me a big ass lunch as some sort of consolation.

"Look at that, you aced your blood pressure test." One girl said, as she took off my blood pressure cuff.

I know, my heart studied blood pressure at SUU.

The second IV that "worked." I'm a trooper, as the workers here told me.
I assume that just means difficult.

*I found out today that I'm supposed to call them coordinators. Not nurses or doctors or scientists or whatever. That really just sounds like they're planning a fancy party in here.
**Riddle me this: Why don't those people bleed while the bugs are eating them? It's probably the magic of a PG-13 rating, but come ooooooooooooon. I want there to be some acknowledgement of actual human anatomy. If I wanted to see that blatantly disregarded, I'd watch Grey's Anatomy.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Boring

I think I just hyper-extended my shoulder. Is that a thing? Or is that only a thing with your elbow? Either way, I think I hyper-extended my shoulder reaching for my chapstick under my bed. Of course, I refuse to carry around my chapstick and it's one of those egg-shaped chapsticks that just roll away when you reach for them because my life is meant to be endless suffering.

So now I'm sitting here with my shoulder hyper-extended (extound?) and figuring out what to do left to entertain myself today.

This morning around 9am, I checked myself into a medical research facility. I'm sure your first thought might be something along the lines of, "Ryan, you're going to be coming out of there an octopus monster...with a gimp." or, "You know those places are only for crack heads and junkies, right?" Well, if that's how you feel, you could be right in those things--but that didn't stop me because I'm tougher than a pioneer with dysentary.

A few months ago I was perusing the newspaper while sipping my coffee when I stumbled upon an ad looking for participants for medical research. It featured a pleasant looking girl in her mid 20's laughing (probably to some medically related joke like, "Do you know what I find humerus? Your funny bone!") and staring off into the distance picturing how much better her life would be if she joined this medical study. Damn, I really want to be that girl, but me and with my hair and teeth because I have some great teeth (and momma wants a new pair of shoes). So I went about making my way to get signed up for any study that was available.

It took a bit of time, but eventually I was able to get screened (blood drawn, urine sample, EEG, the works) and told to show up at 9am on a Monday morning.

So there I was. Bright and early, dressed in my comfy clothes, ready to get experimented upon. Armed with my phone, a few books, a laptop loaded with movies, and...charisma? I really wasn't exactly sure how to emotionally prepare for this and so far I've gotten that the general feeling is slight indifference.

I walked into the doors and was quickly ushered into a room where they proceeded to search my belongings (Because who knows, maybe I decided to bring my cat with me. Or worse, contraband food!) and hand me a pair of scrubs to change into.

"What's your size? Extra Large?"

"Yeah, he's probably an extra large," chimed in another worker.*

"Well, I usually do a la--,"

"Here's an XL, go get changed in the bathroom please.

"Ok..."

I cinched up those pants real tight, but couldn't avoid the balloon that I am now wearing for bottoms. Thankfully, I'm not doing a lot of moving and no one really cares too much about what you're wearing here, since, surprise! They're all wearing the same thing.

"Ok, now go pee in this cup."

After a quick trip to the bathroom, I proceeded to lay on the bed given to me in the room with every other study participant.

"Well, we look good for today."

Huh?

That was it. That was the first day. It wasn't even 10am and I was done for the day. Well, it looked like the point where I just resign myself to die.

Things I did to occupy myself for the next twelve hours"

-Incorrectly type in the wifi password to my laptop for two hours and taking an angry nap, only to wake up and realize I had just switched two characters.

-Googled Carrie Bradshaw's pink Oscar de la Renta dress to see if I could find one to buy for some reason.

-Rewatching Bojack Horseman Season 1 on Netflix.

-Falling asleep and having to rewatch episodes of Bojack Horseman.

-Texting all of my friends how bored I was to see who would respond first (No one did for a few hours.)

-Seeing how long I could hold my pee.

-Watching the other participants to see if they ever left their beds (I don't think they move. I think they might be dead. This is probably purgatory.)**

-Finishing one of the books I brought (I only brought 3. This is day 1 of 5.).

-Googling 'Octupus Monster.'

-Attempting to braid my hair.

-Subsequently getting angry that I don't have to ability to braid my own hair.

-Wondering if my cat thinks I'm dead and how long he will mourn me.

-Probably only a day. Because he's a cat.

-Rediscovering that Goldfish crackers are still good.

I took her advice. I binge watched A show.

-Combing my hair with my fingers.

-Wondering if I get to keep the water bottle they gave me. Especially since I smudged all my initials upon first grabbing it.

-Scrolling through blogs just to read the ignorant comments.

-Deciding not to comment back because you know that those people will find you and try and cut off your scalp in your sleep.

-Reaching for my chapstick  under my bed and hyper-extending my shoulder***

-So here we are now. Twelve hours later. Nearing the end of Day 1. Send supplies please.


*Yeah, I'm still not really sure what to classify these people. Nurses? Scientists? Experimenters? Madmen? No, then they just sound like advertising moguls in the 60's. I wonder how they'll feel if I just call them 'Pap.'
**I have a weird anxiety about walking around since no one else is. Am I supposed to walk around? Am I supposed to resign myself to my bed and the floor is lava? Will the nurses come and tackle me if I get too far away from my cot? I'd rather not risk it.
***I just realized that I never explained why my chapstick was under my bed in the first place. It's not like it rolled there on its own, I put it there in a bin. I forgot to mention that all of my belongings are sitting in a large plastic bin underneath my bed so I have to reach under there any time I want to moisturize my supple lips or grab a book like some kind of prisoner...who is totally here on their own volition.