Today was my 6-month blood test for my urologist and 3-month blood test for my oncologist. Instead of two blood draws in two days, at two clinics, I arranged to get blood for both doctors in one “draw.”
The nurse lowered the flip armrest in front of me as I settled into her “blood drawing” chair. Imagine an adult size high chair with padded armrests including a big one that closes across the front like a drawbridge.
I told her that because of my uncooperative veins, I usually end up with the butterfly needle right here (I pointed to the back of my right hand).
“I do this all day – every day,” she said. “You see those vials?” she asked as she nodded toward a pile of 5 or 6 tube containers, “I need to fill all of those.”
That’s a lot I said. Do whatever you need to do.
“You’re going to feel a sting” she warned as she poked the needle into my arm. I jumped as if I’d received an electric jolt. “That wasn’t too bad.” I determined out loud.
She began giggling quietly. I told her I hadn’t noticed the seat belt when I first sat in the chair, but maybe I should have buckled up. She started laughing out loud as she nimbly swapped each full vial for another empty.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m not laughing at you. I’m really sorry.” I told her I believed her because I could hear the sincerity in her laughter. She began laughing so hard she sat down the vials and was leaning against the counter, bracing herself with both hands.
Laughter is good medicine. That was the most fun I’ve had giving blood.