In My Blood

Chapter 6

Addison Montgomery's Point of View

December 2010

"Six times. You stuck me six times. You blew six veins and you still do not have the blood you need. I've been more than fair. I've been kind. This is a teaching hospital; I tried to walk you through the steps of properly drawing a blood sample. I informed you of the best place to get blood from me. Right now though? My hands are tied, and my tolerance is wearing thin. You need to get your supervisor before I take this butterfly needle and cram it in your..."

"I'm sorry Doctor Montgomery Sloan. I .. I uh..." The intern cuts me off, stammering as I glare at him with distaste.

"In addition, if you would have bothered to read my file, you'd see my last name is Montgomery, not Montgomery Sloan." I don't know why this annoys me so much. Most people know Mark and assume I took his last name when we were married especially considering Heavenly had his last name, and this baby will as well assuming we do not go forward with an adoption. I guess it is just his lack of attention to detail.

"Addison stop, you're going to get security called. They'll kick us out." Mark warns gently.

"That's okay. I don't want to be here anyway." I say.

"Very funny." He steps between the intern and me. I don't know what he thinks I'm going to do. "I'll take the blood." He says, turning to the intern. "Watch and learn, you're lucky my wife has had her coffee this morning." Mark takes my wrist in his hand and tightly ties the rubber tourniquet around it causing the vein in my hand to bulge. He cleans the skin and then in one swift motion inserts the butterfly needle. One by one he attaches and fills the seven different vials. For good measure he reads the tests off to me to confirm HCG testing, CBC, quad screening, blood type and cross, fasting glucose tolerance levels, and several more. I just nod at him. He asks me to say confirm my full name and birthday and then puts the stickers on the vials and one by one places them in the bag.

"Take this to the lab." He tells the intern, who looks grateful for the opportunity to be away from me and leaves the room.

"I told you this was a horrible idea." I tell Mark.

"I'm proud of you." He offers, and I scowl at him. My wrists and my arms are beginning to bruise and hurt from where the intern blew the veins.

"These interns, they cannot even take a simple blood draw properly. We were never this bad."

"We were once. St. Helen." He teases with a smirk. I narrow my eyes at him. He was referring to the first time I attempted to take a patient's blood during med school clinical. Not only did I hit an artery, but I also forgot to close the valve off. I turned to grab another tube and the patient started spewing blood out of the port. The patient began freaking out and waving her arm about. Let's just say blood ended up all over us, the hospital room, and the ceiling.

"Oakley's fine Mark. I can feel her moving. This isn't necessary." I say, he just sighs, shakes his head 'no'. He wipes my hand with the alcohol again and then presses a cotton ball to keep the bleeding stopped and wrapped it in a bright red co flex tape bandage.

"You passed out in the shower; you hit the ground really hard. It's better to be safe than sorry." He kisses the top of my head, which wasn't completely dried yet from the shower. He helps me to lay back on the hospital bed and prepare for the ultrasound just as the attending OBGYN comes in with the machine.

"Are you ready to see this baby?" She asks cheerfully. She rubs the clear gel on my tummy with the ultrasound wand and moves it around until she finds the baby.

"Don't bother with the cheerfulness and pleasantries." I say impatiently. I have only been laying down for a few minutes, but my back is starting to ache from lying flat. My head is pounding, and I feel like I am going to be sick from not eating for the tests and only having black coffee. Every single time Oakley moves this heightens the overall nauseating sensation. I turn my face to look at Mark, anywhere but the screen as Oakley becomes irrationally active trying to escape the ultrasonic waves the wand is putting out. Mark grabs a basin just as I sit up, body trembling and vomit into the bowl. He gives me a paper-towel to wipe my mouth and slips me a hard candy from my purse that is supposed to help with nausea. It's bitter and tastes like sour apple. When the doctor asks if I am okay and if I want to try again, I nod, apologizing. I don't know this doctor, not really. She was brought in after I quit. I didn't even stay to train her.