Hold Your Breath And Hope for The best

I felt pretty good when I woke that morning. No anxiousness or trepidation in regards to what I knew lie ahead of me. I showered and got dressed in normal fashion, took my morning vitamins and then headed out the door.

The drive to my destination was a short one, so there was no real lapse in time to get myself worked-up. But that would all change once I got inside and I knew it; but just how much it would change was yet to be known.

I announced my name and date of birth, answered a few other pertinent questions, and then they buzzed me back thru the locked doors.

I walked the halls and made a turn to the all-too-familiar right and there it was – the dreaded dungeon.

The first thing I saw was my “regular girl” was not there. My heart began to beat a little faster and not in a good way. She’s my girl, she’s the one. She’s figured out all the in’s and out’s and gets it right almost every single time, the first time.

She’s “THE BLOOD TAKER”. Phlebotomist for all you intellectuals out there. But for me she’s the “stick lady”, the “pain lady”, but mostly my girl is the best needle-sticker in that joint, and she wasn’t there.

I sat down knowing this wasn’t about to go down as I had envisioned. My veins are deep, they hide, and they roll. The person doing the sticking not only has to try and find them, but they have to try and project where they are going once that needle breaks the surface of my skin.

As my “substitute-sticker” is attempting to look for a vein, to no surprise it turns out to be all in vain (pun intended) because she can’t find one. I could see the sweat start to form around her upper lip, mostly because I was jabbering 90 miles an hour, giving instructional advice, and regaling her horrid stories of sticks-gone-bad from the past.

For those of you who can literally feel my pain, you know what I mean, 3 sticks in one arm, a couple in the other, then finally they give-up and try the dreaded top-of-the-hand stick. It’s usually a sure-fire stick and I get that, but there’s no fat in the top of your hand – so pleasant - it is not.

And as you ladies know, they take a LOT of blood draws during pregnancies and man alive was that ever horrible. Once, they actually debated about going in on the top of my foot to try and find a usable vein. IT DID NOT HAPPEN.

They sent me across the street to the hospital – who by the way – have zero limitation counts on how many times they can stick, unlike a doctor’s office - and they got it on the first try! In the arm!

The final conclusion on this particular day was she let me know she saw NOTHING, could feel NOTHING, so the top of the hand it was to be. And the first stick was a winner! WHEW!

Staying healthy is tough/sometimes painful work!