chug...chug...chug

I had my (almost) 27-week prenatal check-up today, which meant the dreaded glucose test. It's 10am and I've had nothing to eat for breakfast even though I worked out at 8am and am pregnant. Not a good combination. The nurse hands me a straw and a bottle that has a faint resemblance to pop, but is really solid sugar with a few drops of liquid. I'm about to ask her for a spoon when she says,

"Make note of the time. You need to drink the entire bottle within 5 minutes and then start the timer."

Probably not a big deal for most women, but a formidable task for me. Why? Because I know what happened the last time I did the glucose test two years ago. I don't drink pop (and didn't then either), so sucking down 24 ounces (OK...maybe 8) of carbonated glucose is not appealing to me. My first run at it, I ended up sipping it so slowly that I literally had to chug almost the entire 8 ounces in the last 30 seconds. I'm sure I looked like I was taking shots in a bar, not taking a simple prenatal test in a waiting room.

This go-round, I was determined to pace myself better. Four minutes in, I was sure I was doing so well, but when I glanced at the bottle, I realized I still had half of the bottle remaining. The other women there probably thought the nurse had somehow mistakenly given me motor oil by the look of sheer terror on my face at the task ahead of me. I wasted the next 30 seconds peering around the waiting room trying to ascertain where the cameras were located that were trained on me to make sure I finished the drink within 5 minutes. Growing more frightened by the second that the nurse was going to burst through the door and start shouting at my to finish or I'd have to do it all over again, I chugged the remaining 4 ounces, slammed the bottle down on the table and quickly started the timer. Now all I needed was some coffee to go with my sugar.