By Steve Rhodes
Adapted from a recent Facebook post.
I realize that tons and tons and tons of people are suffering far, far greater maladies than the dumb little thing that occurred to me recently, but folks seem to like these stories when I write them up, so here goes.
I went to the hospital blood lab a few weeks ago to get tests my doctor ordered as a follow-up to some tests I took a month ago for numb hands and feet (still a problem), and also to just get the complete work-up because I’m a relatively new patient of his. I hadn’t had blood drawn since 2011.
I have a history of not doing well with blood drawn, sometimes fainting, sometimes not. I’m not afraid of it, it’s just a reaction that some people get. I always advise my blood-drawers of this. But a month ago, I did perfectly fine and thought I was done with that. It hasn’t been all my life, it started one year many years ago when I was in the waiting room once after the blood draw, chatting with my mom, and the next thing I knew, I woke up on a bed in the doctor’s office. One time I was in the waiting room – again, after, not during – the blood draw just shooting the shit with a friend and – I don’t remember any of this – I threw up and passed out, like, at the same time I guess. But sometimes I’m fine, or just a little woozy.
So anyway, I’m in the blood-draw room in the hospital blood lab and I’m disappointed it’s not the woman I had last time, who was so good at it I didn’t even realize the needle was in. Instead, I had a guy who seemed both a bit too eager to get to it and a bit nervous at the same time. Plus, he wasn’t very chatty. Then he stuck the fuck out of me. Just poked the fuck out of my left arm with the needle. “OWWWWW!” I yelled. “That hurts!”
I’ve never done that before. It’s never hurt. I don’t know how many times he jabbed me trying to get that needle in, but I want to say it was maybe four times.
Posted on December 28, 2018