Ouch!

Wow.

Today we had to do a bunch of things for our Visa/residency/not sure exactly, I just do what I'm told. Mind you, we weren't allowed to eat breakfast because of the blood test, so we were all a little grumpy...we were past hungry and approaching hangry by this point.  We had to go to one building to get our photos taken (seriously, why wouldn't they just let me smile? Worst.Photo.Ever.  Thanks, China.) and then another building to get blood drawn.

That's where I met her.  Nurse Ratched.

We pulled up to the international health center to get some blood drawn...Now, when I say "international health center," what I really mean is "sketchville-this-can't-be-sanitary health center".  So we walked in, and after I accidentally followed our translator into a No Admittance area, we were led to the registration desk.  The lady at the desk took a ninja photo of me from her webcam for my health form....Yep, bad photo number 2 of the day.  It looks like one of those photos you see on the news of someone walking out of a convenience store with a pocket full of cash and stolen goods.  Anyway...back to Nurse Ratched.

They led us to a room that, well, words can't describe, so here are a few photos.

Please note the gaping hole in the ceiling

So somehow I got elected to go first.  Perfect.  Scary Nurse took my paper, pulled my arm under the glass, did the rubber band thingy, and then smacked my arm HARD three times.  Like, she hit me.  Hard.  At first I looked at my colleagues, shocked.  They heard the slap in the hallway and started laughing.  Then I started laughing.  You know, like the uncontrollable laughter that happens at really inappropriate times - weddings, funerals, prayer, doctor's offices.  Nurse Ratched didn't see the humor in the situation, but I seriously couldn't stop laughing...that is, until I saw the needle.  The previous night I had a dream that they tried to use unsterilized needles which led to an ugly Chinese/English argument, so I stopped laughing and started seriously studying the needle and procedures.  She drew my blood with what I'm going to assume was a sterile needle, snapped off the giant rubber band thingy, and then gave me a Qtip to hold on the gaping wound in my arm.  No love from Nurse Ratched....not even a Band-aid.  Whatever.  So I tried not to drip blood on the floor on my way out...not that it would have mattered or even stood out from the other splatters on the tile.  Thankfully one of the other teachers had toilet paper in her bag (there's a reason we carry toilet paper...a topic for another day) so we made a makeshift bandage and waited for the others to be beaten up by N.R. and then sent away with nothing but tiny piece of cotton to nurse their wounds. 

Nurse Ratched - 1, Mollie - 0.