Monday, February 28, 2011

Don't Dig

As I was getting D ready for school this morning, she grabbed my arm being silly and just about jumped through the roof.  What was that?  Then I look down at the crook of my arm...Ah, that's right.

The City is having a wellness screening for all of its employees - blood work and an interview with a nurse practitioner, in exchange for $1500 off your insurance per year per couple.  So, of course we do it.  It is a fasting blood draw, so my firefighter and I go in as soon as he gets off shift on Saturday - before the rest of the chaos of the day begins.  Now, I hear we picked the right lab.  The other one on our side of town was out the door and down the hall for these three vials of blood.  So that was a plus in our favor.  It all goes down hill from there.

After a screaming tween (I felt for that mom) and a few other fire couples get blood drawn, it is our turn.  I warn our oh-so competent phlebotomist that my veins roll.  We discuss the horror stories I have about waking up on the floor after someone did not listen.  My last request before she stabs me, "Please don't dig."  Her response - "Oh no.  I would much rather pull out and try again, then dig around in there."  So, she takes a stab...misses...and...begins to dig...and dig...and dig some more.  My ears start ringing as I watch in horror. I begin breathing as slowly and deeply as I can.  The purple curtain starts to invade my vision.  My firefighter recognizes this and stands in front of me, just in case.

And she finally found one.  I suppose, even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while. Imagine if I had not warned her!
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