Torturing for Kicks Since 2006

There is nothing like the pediatrician asking for a routine blood-test to freak a mother out. There is nothing worse than holding down your kid while some stranger pokes and prods and baby screams with rage-filled eyes and cries and does the kreplock-lipkey-frowny-face. No fun. No fun at all, which is why we procrastinated nearly one month before we finally took Archer in for his nine-month bloodwork at the local Quest Diagnostics.

Correct me if I'm wrong and maybe it's just Los Angeles but the scariest, most unattractive women work in the "blood test" world. (I have yet to meet a man-diagnostic-person.) They spit when they speak. They're mean and sweaty and messy and their nails are always long with little rhinestone flowers, chipping at the edges. They smell like hamburger meat and so far I have yet to walk into a diagnostics office and been proven wrong.

When I was pregnant and suffering from hypertension I was tested almost daily. I was strapped up to machines and monitored and I had to drink the chalk drink and the glucose drink and get blood drawn and take it like a man. I was a perfect gentewoman all but once when the mannish blood-maiden literally leapt from behind her blood-stump of a reception desk and poured the remainder of my glucose drink down my throat because I had "thirty seconds before my time was up. I'm serious, lady. If you don't drink up I'm going to have to pour the damn thing down your throat." I was livid. I was petrified. I told the bitch to step back. After leaving the diagnostic dungeon I made a few calls. "Take care of it," I said. But nothing worked. The bitch was there the next time and I sweetly asked to come back when she wasn't working. I was THAT upset. I hated her stinking guts.

Beware the scary, hairy bitches for they drag their haggard selves from the depths of every diagnostic space in the greater LA area with fat hands and pooorly-manicured claws. One would think that in Beverly Hills, a half block from Kitson and The Ivy and every other US weekly, paparazzi hot spot, shit would be classy, or at the least, kinda sorta nice.

Ha! Not so much.

We walked inside, signed Archer in and waited, fuzzy-radio blasting in the background, receptionist arguing with her boyfriend on the phone. "No you didn't..."

The nurse/blood-maiden stuck her neck around the corner. Finally it was our turn.



We followed the NBM to the plastic chair in the windowless cubicle.

"Sit down, mom. Now hold your child down."

I held Archer on my knee and bounced him up and down. "Okay. We're ready."

"Stop bouncing. Dad? Hold his hands so I can take these three vials of blood."

So we did. Archer's cries turned into screams. Screams turned into hysterics and just when we thought we couldn't take it anymore, twitching to hold back tears. "It's okay, babe. It's almost over..." the woman pulled her needle from Archer's vien. The three vials were full and the NBM thanked us kindly. She rubbed Archer's head and gave him a kissy face.

"Poor baby. Your parents done torture you, didn't they?"

"Um.... heeeellllooo? We didn't torture him."

"Well that's what your son thinks, trust me."

"Well, it's probably because torturing our son is a great hobby of ours."



Thanks Nurse/blood maiden. We will back to torture the baby as soon as possible and I can't wait! Wooooooo! Blooooooooooooood!



Anonymous | 5:25 PM

Wow! You've got some sadistic nurses over there in Beverly Hills...

Anonymous | 5:38 PM

Woah! What a horrible nurse. I am sorry you had to go through that.

Chris | 6:28 PM

One good thing about our pediatrician -- whenever there's bloodwork needed or a shot to be had, they bring in two nurses, one to administer and one to hold the baby down. Mom and Dad get to swoop in at the end and be the Good Guys.

Anonymous | 6:29 PM

Sounds all too familiar. The crazy bitches oops I mean orthopedic nurses that put Q's cast on where the pseudo-nice ones. Like they thing they are being nice by telling her 5000 times that she's cute little boy - but really it's only pissing her off.




THAT is a great idea. Next time, I'm asking the doctor to draft the receptionist if that's what it takes. That look on his face when I'm literally pinning him down is TORTURE.


Ew! As if Q looks like a boy! Bitches be BLIND!

Stacy | 7:26 PM

those blood sucking leeches!!!!

Anonymous | 9:04 PM

Hahaha...sorry! I'm still laughing at the "smell like hamburger meat" line. So true. Why the hell is that?

Awesome Mom | 11:50 PM

Next time have him sitting on your lap in an adult chair, put his legs between yours and you grab the arm they are not using. There will be a bar that folds down in front of you and you can use that to gently push up against to help keep him from squirming. This has been the best way for us to hold my son when he has to have blood drawn. I hope that description makes sense, it is kind of hard to describe. At one time we were going in once a week so we had to get a system down. Don't worry about Archer thinking you are the bad guy, he won't.

MrsFortune | 5:27 AM

I'm in the middle of picking a pediatrician for our kidlet. I guess I'll go in to all the offices, sniff the nurses, and look at their nails. Thanks for the headz up!

Anonymous | 6:06 AM

wow. the experience you had with that nurse when you were pregnant sounds absolutely horrific! that is just plain WRONG!!! i'd be so mad, too!!

poor 'lil archer... what a mean nurse! getting blood drawn is bad enough... having a scary nurse makes it even worse. :(

Mom101 | 7:45 AM

Oh no! You're making my palms sweat just reading this. I have this horrible fear that Thalia will inherit my veins, or lack thereof. We're talking NO veins. My epi was delayed one long, painful hour while three different nurses and a nurse anesthetist with the bedside manner of Charles Manson stuck me repeatedly in failed attempts to draw blood.

Your story kind of makes me wonder why some people become nurses to begin with. Good insurance?

Amy | 8:02 AM

This is so familiar. We had a doc visit yesterday, and they said there would be no shots. Then I'm told there will be one shot. OK, one shot I can deal with, sans gramma or daddy. Then in waltzes the nurse with TWO, count 'em, TWO needles. Argh. At least my nurses and PAs are nice and odor-free. Love your blog, I'm a new reader. | 10:51 AM


I will add the the second scariest women on the planet work at the Sears Photo Studio in South Philly. I have several holiday photos of my children looking as if they are being approached by Barney with his head on fire.


HAHAHAHA. Nice. Yeah... i can imagine those bitches smell too. I don't get the whole "working with kids/hating kids" thing. Misanthropic/bitter folks should find a nice stay-at-home job. Sheesh.

Anonymous | 5:57 PM

I have lived this! We ALSO have Quest Diagnostics up here and I am forced to use them (or find a new medical group). I had one of those nurses "forget" to call my name on the list and then try to close the office. Uh-uh, aint happening, bitch. (I went all ghetto)