I have decided to go out on a limb and donate my time to a local Hospice organization. It is only for one hour a week, and I really want to be able to tell everyone that “I see dead people.” Plus, my ultimate goal is to meet a rich man with a heart condition and I figure this will help me get a foot in the door.
ANYWAY…One of the things I need in order to be ‘cleared’ is to pass two rounds of TB testing. I hate needles, but hey, it’s for a good cause. I went for test # 1 today during my lunch hour. All I can say is, God is a prankster.
I walked into the room for my test. The nurse turns around to introduce herself and she’s as cockeyed as the day is long. Like, BIG time. At first I thought I had something on my shirt, or maybe she was looking at my shoes? Or the wall behind me? I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I even tried to figure out if she had one good eye (because sometimes they do, and it’s just the other goofy eye that throws it all off). No luck, I’m fairly certain they were both fricked. And here she came with her alcohol swab and needle. Jesus Christ. Is this because I didn’t go to mass on Palm Sunday?!
As she looked simultaneously at the ceiling and at the “Eat Healthy!” poster behind me, she explained that I wouldn’t feel much more than a pinch. In all honesty, I didn’t feel anything when she did it. Turns out, she stuck the needle into my leather watch band. I didn’t say a word and got the hell out of there. Negative TB test # 1, here I come!
That's it for today's blog. Just a little blurb from my life before I forget it even happened. I'll let you know how Test # 2 goes.
I think I'll end with some sage-like advice: Never do anything you wouldn’t want to explain to the paramedics.
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