You would think that since I have decided to get a tattoo I would be over the fear of getting blood drawn. But alas, this is not the case. Besides, there is a difference between needles penetrating the skin’s surface to place ink into the epidermis and a huge needle digging down past the 4-5 layers of epidermis and 2 layers of dermis, trying to find an illusive vein to suck out large tubes of blood for tests.
I am preparing for another “procedure” in the very near future and my surgeon ordered all kinds of labs to be done before hand. My least favorite is the blood draws and of course he wanted a full panel.
The first inconvenience of this daunting task was the almost 2 hour wait to see the blood sucker. It wasn’t her fault. She was only one person with a sea of victims waiting in line for her handiwork. When I finally get my turn, I sit down in the chair with those funky arm rests and I tell her, “I am a really hard stick.”
Her reply…” I can get blood out of a turnip!”
“I hope so“, I prayed!
Because of past medical issues I can’t have any blood draws or blood pressure readings taken on my right arm. Every phlebotomist that ever lays eyes on my right arm drools with lust over those lovely restricted veins. Then they glance at what they have to work with on the other side and let out a long sad sigh.
While she was getting all of her vampire tools ready I told her about my worst blood
draw letting ever.
It was in preparation for a different procedure way back in 2006. You would think with the passing of time I would have forgotten the painful memory. But no, I am like a bulldog and hold onto certain events in my life with a death grip. My daughter Aliesha was with me and I still remember the size of her eyes. Like golf balls full of fear. Mine probably looked the same I just couldn’t see them.
The intern phlebotomist stuck me 7 times with no luck. Digging, twisting and turning to secure a willing vein.
Finally. I. Said.
“You need to get somebody in here that can do this!”
Eventually the intern blood letter calls some other weakling blood sucker to poke me some more and she is finally successful after 2 more tries. But…. then she hands the tube of precious hemoglobin to the inapt intern who then clumsily drops the golden vile to the floor!
It was a total slow motion event.
Noooooooooo! I could see the shattered tube all over the floor! Covering my feet with my own blood!
The collection tube was plastic! Yes! There is a God who loves me!
I seriously thought I was going to have to go through that whole scenario again. It was as if my life flashed before my eyes.
I cried. Aliesha cried.
Never again…I learned my lesson, if they can’t get it in 2 tries, I tell them, “Get a better vampire in here quick!”
By the time I finished my horror story the Angel of Phlebotomy had stuck me once, without pain, drawn 3 large sample tubes, capped them properly with the rubber stoppers and carefully placed the priceless cargo in a tray without any spillage or breakage. I was amazed. I asked her, “Where have you been all my life?”
I wonder if you can hire your own personal phlebotomist?