The First Baby Appointment

Mom was here Friday, and Frankie got the day off for our first baby doctor appointment! Pretty exciting, but also slightly nerve-wracking, what with all the poking, examining and blood about to be taken. Frank was acting a little strange, but of course so was I, and he's earned himself a turn. Although it mostly consisted of him washing a lot of dishes, and getting slightly snappy with me for not being hungry (even though we just bought a hilarious amount of snack-food), so compared to my recent episodes of Looney Tunes, I'd say I got the better end of the weirdness stick.


I basically demand to drive to the appointment, and end up making a wrong turn toward the end of the trip to the doctor, blaming it on Frank's bad directions. To be exact, he had given me only one direction, and I had waved it off (because (pff), I already knew how to get there). Until the small dark spot in my brain covering a portion of the trip showed itself.


The one direction WAS actually wrong--a left should've been a right--or I wasn't listening properly or something. So as a combination of me being proud, and Frank always looking at the MAP instead of at the LIST on Google maps like I always TELL HIM TO DO...we were a whole five minutes later than we planned. We were still ten minutes early for the appointment, but it was a great excuse to get hyper over nothing.


The appointment itself was less eventful than we had pictured, based on What to Expect's description of the first visit, but we scheduled that more invasive and revealing meeting before we left. Turns out we were mostly asked a bunch of questions and given a lot of information. No poking around or thorough examining, but there was blood taken. Here was the exchange between the nurse and I:


Nurse: Go ahead and have a seat.
Me: So how much blood is this?
Nurse: (nonchalantly) 6 tubes
Me: ..You're kidding, right?
Nurse: (points to the counter riddled with tubes) Yeah, I'm serious.
Me: (deep breath) Okayy, well just to warn you, I'm not really good at this.
Nurse: It's really not that much--
Me: No, you don't understand. I was actually kicked out of one of those medical studies in college because I wasn't good at giving blood samples
Nurse: You're not gonna pass out are you?
Me: Mmm, I might.
Nurse: Oh, Lord, I don't think we have any rooms right now.




The nurse proceeds to check as to whether there are any rooms available for one to have their legs elevated after a blood work chair schlump. Negatory. A cold compress (wet paper towel) and cup of water will have to do. She reassures me that it's REALLY not as much as I think, and straps one of those horrible rubber bands above my elbow. I shade my right eye with my left hand to block sight of the needle, when the nurse suggests that I call my husband over to talk to me while I get the life force sucked out of my veins. Sure, why not?


Me: Frankie, come over here.
Frank: (peeks around the corner) ...Hi.
Nurse: Talk to her.
Me: Your job is to distract me so I don't pass out. Tell me a joke.
Frank: (brightens) Ah, all right, uh, Knock, knock.
Me: (smirks through worry) Who's there?
Frank: Duane.
Me: Duane who?
Frank: Duane the baftub, I'm dwoowwningg!


The nurse loves it, and he fires up another riddle about Beethooven's favorite fruit (Ba-na-na-naaaah). The nurse observes that I'm not finding the jokes as funny as she is, and I reply that is mostly because I have heard them about a hundred-thousand times. He had to think fast, and those are his staples of crowd-pleasing humor. Good jokes, but not the freshest.


He leads into a third story-based joke about a lawyer, when I interrupt. "Don't tell this joke. It's too long." I am quickly overruled by the nurse, who insists that she's never heard it, and would really like to. "I am lovin' this--go 'head Frankie."


I had a band-aid on my arm right as the punchline was delivered, just in time for the nurse to support her weight on the counter laughing. Turns out it was the perfect length, and while I still felt the color wash from my face around what I assume was tube 4, I remained conscious.


The nurse's review was a resounding five stars--"Good Job, Frankie! I wish we had you in here all the time--nobody be passin' out with you around!! If you be doin' this while the kid's comin, Imma love it."


Thanks to Frankie, and also to that lawyer who bought a new car. Ask him to tell you about it.