Starting back in November 2009, I have dreaded receiving a letter that would arrive every three to six months. I hate receiving that letter. It’s a constant reminder of what I must face. Something I wish I could go on and not worry about. As soon as I see the return label reading “Salem Clinic” I know I must go face my fear. All the will power I have, I will need to enter their dim daunting building and let them take my precious blood that holds all the secrets if I was a good or bad.
When I pull onto Capital Street, I can feel my hands start to sweat. The anticipation of having a needle jammed in my arm is not a welcoming feeling. Dark green trees and shrubbery run along the front of the ...view middle of the document...
In the upper left corner of the reception desk is the laboratory waiting area. On the right side of the reception desk are two double doors that lead to Radiology. To the right side of the automatic doors is the waiting area for Radiology. If you walk past that to the right is another small waiting area and a single brown door with a window in it that’s used for urgent care.
After waiting in line for what seems forever it’s my turn. Even though it’s still early in the morning, the receptionists are not smiling. All three of them look tired and bored. I can tell by the tone of their voice, all their questions seem repetitive and robot like; “Name, birthdate, why are you here? Did you fast? Last time you ate?” When their done they point to the waiting area I need telling me someone will be with me shortly.
Over in the Laboratory waiting area it’s a little brighter than the reception area. Along the wall are chairs as well as one long row in the middle. No matter where I decide to sit, it will be uncomfortable. The chairs are hard and sit up at an uncomfortable angle. On the side tables are all types of magazines. I don’t dare touch them. All I can think is all of the germs on them.
When my name is finally called by the phlebotomist, my heart is racing. I start to feel sick to my stomach. The phlebotomist offers me a weak smile and tells me to follow them. The room I’m led into is uncomfortably bright and it takes my eye a bit to adjust. In the middle of the small room lays a lab table with a black top with miscellaneous things on it. The table is almost the length of the room. The table is in front of three stations that are used to take blood. Behind the table are three separate bathrooms. .