This morning I was feeling like I needed to do something for somebody else. You know because I’m still in a funk that I have no power and can’t move into my new house! And they say that the quickest way to forget your own troubles is to serve someone. So I decided that I would donate blood.
I have been told that I have “bad” veins and have had several not-so-good experiences with phlebotomists and nurses. It’s probably a good thing I never aspired to be an IV drug addict, or I’d be a very frustrated drug user due to a lack of good veins to shoot up in. Anyhow, today was no exception. However I was determined to succeed in my quest.
The Red Cross technician and I went through the initial formality of pulling up both of my sleeves and examining the veins on both arms. She smacked the insides of my arms a bit, presumably to make the veins stand up more, but I really think it is the phlebotomist taking out her aggression, ‘Look at these stupid veinless arms.’ Smack, smack, smack.
The right arm was deemed better than the left, which I tried to tell her in the first place but she apparently is having marital troubles and felt that abusing me a bit would make her feel better. She put the tight blue elastic band around my arm (probably imagining that it was her husbands neck) and I opened and closed my fist. A few more smacks and she jabbed me with the needle. Nope, no blood. Jab some more. Still no blood. Then she began moving and jabbing the needle around underneath my skin, it was a “VAIN” attempt to hit a “VEIN” (I amuse myself). I had to tell her that I didn’t think I had signed up for liposuction on my arm, because that is what it looked (and felt) like she was doing.
Okay no blood. Time to move on to the left arm. We repeated the above scenario on this arm. I asked if they had some leeches and a glass, because it seemed that might be a tad more effective.
The girl began calling for the other phlebotomist to come into the room. That alone did not inspire the sort of confidence I like to have in someone who is holding a needle in my arm. Not only that but she was scaring off the Elon students who didn't have childbirth memories to use as a barometer for just how much pain they could endure. Then my arm did begin to bleed, just not into the needle.
Yeah I didn’t know that could happen either. I was thinking, ‘This can’t be good.’
But when the girl said, ‘This is SO weird’ I had had enough. I told her to take the needle out.
‘Are you sure? I think I almost have it’
Ummm, yes I am definitely sure that the time has come for you, your needle, and my arm to part company, ‘TAKE IT OUT OF MY ARM.’
The other phlebotomist came into the room and we began the blood letting dance again. Third time was the charm. The girl kept saying how “funny” it was. I might have found it funny too if it wasn’t my arms.
Now I’m going to have big bruises on the insides of my arms and I’m just thankful it is long sleeve weather. But at least I can take solace in the fact that I did something good today!
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6 comments:
I love that story. I love giving blood, but apparently me living in the British Isles has exposed me to Mad Cow. Yea, I know, ironic.
I gave blood on the same day as my first date with Harold. I ended up with a HUGE bruise the size of a dinner plate on the inside of my left arm. We went to Olive Garden and it was early summer, so I was short sleeved. I kept teasing Harold if he didn't treat me nice I would tell all other patrons waiting to be seated that he had done this to me. It was fun.
p.s. Harold gave blood yesterday.
I am terrified of needles so reading your story made me a little queasy. I am glad it all worked out in the end but I am sorry about all the bruises you are going to have.
I think the vein thing is hereditary, I have many similar experiences. Fortunately there is a lady in my doctors office that is the best at taking blood, so my last few times have been cake. Everytime I've given birth, they have a hard time with IV's too. Atleast you were trying to do a good deed, I was told many moons ago my blood was no good to them due to low iron, I haven't tried since.
I tried to give blood on Wednesday but I got rejected because my hemocrit level was one percentage point too low.... Not enough iron. So to rub salt in the wound of my disappointment they sent me away with a rejection letter. Maybe I'm taking it too personally... They could have just said no but they had to give me a two page letter about it. Oh well I'll eat some raisins and try again next time.
Anyway this is my first visit to your blog and I am adding it to my favorites. By the way, I'm the Julie married to your cousin Matt.
Sooo funny! I've always wanted to hear the voice inside of a patients head. I feel like I need to post this at work and send a copy to the phlebotomy department. Just so you know, it sucks being on the other end. I hate inflicting pain and missing.....I have to tell myself that its not intentional. But on the other hand, its an awesome feeling when a patient tells you how "hard" they are and you somehow get it on the first try....a very exciting moment in my working day. :)Nurse Kate
I have never heard of anything like that!! Crazy!
Glad you survived.
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