Quest Diagnostics

I get my blood drawn weekly and have come to quest a few times and now actively avoid it.
*Noone ever answers the phone
*they never seem to receive the orders from my doctors either via the computer or via fax. I need to rely on bringing a physical copy.
*I am a moderately hard stab and they struggle extremely hard to draw my blood. When I have it drawn at the hospital they are able to get it on the first poke 95% of the time, but Quest usually takes a few stabs and isn’t always gentle while searching for the vein once they’ve poked you.
*no cell phone service (not a huge deal, but would be nice to use my cell phone in there)

First things first, I would return here if I needed to. Needed to get some bloodwork done and didn’t want to drive downtown Chicago just for that. It was easy to just walk in; I had to wait about 15 minutes as there was someone ahead of me (8am on a Wednesday morning). Everyone was very professional if not overly friendly. I guess my only complaint is the online system to use afterwards – I requested my results online a few weeks ago and never got a response (I wanted a copy for my own records). Luckily they did send everything to my doctor within a week.

Blood work. Blood borne. Blood poisoning. Blood drive. Blood sucker.
Blood sure does command a lot of action.
I suppose that’s why I have this over whelming desire to run like Forrest Gump away from any lab that is about to draw my blood.
Well, not so fast, Forrest, not so fast. This is the exception that proves the rule.
Granted, the office building itself is nothing to write home for. And if you happen to enter in the service entrance, versus the main fancy schmancy lobby, you will think that illegal medical whatever is performed here.
But after entering Quest you are met with exactly what you need: calm, quiet, professionalism, and extremely large and comfortable lounge chairs — that which to more comfortably draw thy blood.
I will admit that I get a little fidgety when they put that padded bar in front of you. You never feel the «Great America» theme park feeling. And one should never view it as a way to avoid escape.
More importantly, it is there for the utterly exciting possibility (or probability) that you will pass out when the needle goes in: and we wouldn’t want to have to go through all of that pretense again, would we?
Sylvia (the woman who drew my blood) should get an Olympic medal. And on the off chance that I had fallen over in a dead heap (and we’re talking dead) there is not a doubt in my mind that coroner’s near and far would never have been able to locate the needle stick.
For the No Bruised Arms Club — thank you!!! You’re fabulous.