The 3-Hour Glucose Test - Part II

Friday morning I woke up at 7:00am with Husband and I was starving! So what did I do? Eat a big breakfast of eggs, sausage, hash browns and OJ? Nope. Not only would that breakfast probably lead me to an early grave, but food was not allowed on that particular morning. After pulling on my sweats and kissing Husband goodbye, I got ready for my 3-hour glucose test at the hospital lab. As I pulled together every piece of portable electronic entertainment devices I could find, the void in my stomach continued to grow. So far, the morning was not going well. Seeing as how I would not be allowed to eat for at least another three hours I had no choice but to suck it up, take my laptop, ipod, phone, books, magazines and warm socks, and make the short drive over to the lab for the second time.

Hour 1: I arrived at the lab and was thankfully taken right away. Before giving me the disgusting lemon-lime syrup to drink, they took my blood so they could have a baseline sample. Then they gave me the good stuff. This time they made me drink it in front of them, as if I were some sort of cheating liar who might run into the bathroom and dump it down the sink then return the empty bottle. Really, do people do this? If so, critical thinking must not be their strong suit. Of course, like a good girl, I complied and attempted to down the drink as quickly as possible. I got at least half the bottle down in the first big gulp. After a few more hearty chugs I was done. They gave me a timer and off I went to sit, sit, sit in the lobby. Not much to really talk about there. Games were played on the laptop and movies were watched on the ipod. This hour was probably the worst out of all of them. A slight woozy feeling, nausea, dizziness, etc. Finally the alarm sounded and back I went for the second blood draw.

Hour 2: As I was having my second blood draw done I noticed another pregnant woman standing in the hall. Everything about her screamed high maintenance. Heavy blond highlights, designer jeans, cute but casual top, ballet flats with big fake jewels on the toes and a Coach bag. She was adorable. Next to me in my grey sweats from 2000, my white tank top and flip flops, she looked like a superstar. The only thing that saved my outfit was my black hoodie with the words "Santorini Greece" printed on it with sparkly silver jewels, and that's not saying much. Seeing as how I was in the lab with nothing else to look at except for the "specimen" refrigerator in front of me, I chose to watch the cute pregnant lady attempt to down her 1-hour glucose drink. It is worth mentioning that the 1-hour drink is half the strength of of the 3-hour drink and honestly not that bad. I wouldn't request it at a restaurant or anything, but really not terrible.

Apparently the high maintenance woman disagreed with me. Watching her choke it down was a lot like what I imagine myself looking like when I had to choke down tuna casserole as a kid (sorry Mom). I would sit there hating every minute of it. For some reason I couldn't make the connection between swallowing and not having to taste the food anymore. So the food would just sit there in my mouth, I would begin to gag and choke, I would break out into a cold sweat and whimper like a sad puppy. You would think my own plight as a child would have given me some sympathy for this poor pregnant woman, but no I quite enjoyed the whole picture. I refrained from laughing and telling her to just suck it up, literally. Instead I sat, quietly amused and wondering if perhaps this was the way my parents felt watching me trying to choke down the tuna casserole. Probably.

Hour 3: The waiting room time during hour two was once again uneventful. High maintenance pregnant lady and I exchanged a few pleasantries - how far along, what are you having, wasn't that drink gross (she was unaware that there would be a 3-hour test if she failed, she looked scared), etc. etc.. Then we both plugged in to our own electronic devices and went about our business. By the time I went for my third blood draw, I was feeling better and although I was completely ravenous the nurse showed no sympathy. I suspect she was having a cranky day because despite my attempts to engage her in some lighthearted conversation I was completely rebuffed. Well excuse me for trying to make these three hours of torture a little less miserable! Geez!

After my third time of being stabbed I returned to lobby, excited about my eminent freedom. As I was pulling out my iPod (at that point my laptop had died and there was nowhere to plug it in) a woman with short cropped hair (it looked like someone took a weed whacker to it), no makeup and dressed in army fatigues marched in. No really, she marched. She marched straight over to the lab counter, slammed her lab order down, got her 1-hour drink and slammed that down too. It was amazing, no fuss, nothing. The drink was gone in what appeared to be one giant gulp. She sat down and did not look up until her hour was through. Fascinating.

Freedom: Finally my time had come. I had watched countless patients come and go and now it was my turn. I returned to the lab one more time. Upon my arrival another cranky nurse said, "Is she still here?" *scowl scowl* What the heck? Do I smell or something?? I showered I swear! Whatever, nothing could take away from the fact that I was going to leave and the cranky nurses all had to stay! They stabbed me again for a fourth and final time and I was off! I returned home, where I made the mistake of trying to hold a coherent conversation with my mom over the phone, only to realize that a pregnant lady running on nothing but a concentrated sugar drink is probably like talking to a normal person who has gone two days without food. We both gave up and after eating everything in the kitchen and then taking a two hour nap I was back to my achy, bed ridden pregnant self.

* A quick note: The results from this test should be available Monday. Also, my fetal fibronectin test was negative which means I should not go in to labor within the next two weeks. Yay!