Game Over!

My two "lovely" children were unbelievably excited about mommy getting blood work at the hospital recently or as Emma says, having my blood stolen. It was an exciting game to them, a ballgame almost and while they sat, delirious in anticipation, I stood filling out paperwork.

It was Mom's team against the Doc's and I could well hear the game's commentator shouting in my head, "Ouch! Strike one against Mom's team; she's looking a little sour about the Living Will and DNR paperwork. By the way, that's Do Not Resuscitate, folks, and look at the crowd go wild!"

The crowd was going wild, they could barely keep their bums in their seats, Emma with a giant foam #1 finger (Go Blood) dancing high in the air and Brie laden with popcorn and a giant 32 ounce of soda; her head adorned with a "Go Docs!" pink ball cap. The two were chanting and stomping their feet, "Where's the blood, where's the blood?"

The receptionist, who was busily shocking me with one form after another pertaining to whether I shouldn't make it, (all this for same day surgery) glanced from my girls back to me. "They are so precious, and being so good,"

I took a moment to peek from home plate to the opposing team's "precious" fans; they were drooling and had an ever-growing scowl forming across their foreheads.

"When they going to steal your blood, mommy?" Emma inquired, looking absolutely livid that someone wasn't at that very moment poking me with a needle. Our hospital escort took this moment to appear, breaking up a potential riot in the stands, smiling from ear-to-ear, "They are adorable!" She replied, overlooking Brie's white tee shirt with bright red lettering that read, "Type AB Pos Rocks!"

We were led from one floor to the next, meeting one nurse after another, my opposing team's fans growing precariously impatient, asking of everyone when and whom was going to take their mother's blood. It was apparent that if someone didn't take Team Mom's blood pretty soon the Team Doc fans were going to be livid enough to do it themselves.