Recently I returned to a
blood draw lab to gift them with a box of chocolates. That is because I think they are
under appreciated. They are not always
people’s favorite person to see. I
imagine them in the back office humming the song from Annie, It’s a Hard Luck
Life for Us, just like the orphans girls in the musical. Being a little “needle-shy”, I can relate to
others and I work at appreciating their efforts on my behalf.
Recently I had some blood
drawn. It went from a “long nite in
jail” to humorous. Let me explain. When we arrived at the lab, the waiting room
was full. But people zipped in and
zipped out. It cleared pretty fast. Beth (my wife) handed our fistful of orders
and they prepared for my draw. I went to
the draw room and saw a string of bar code labels that fell to the floor. 23 vials, 4 more bottles of blood, 2
urinalysis, 1 sputum and the need for two pokes. One from each arm. Oh boy.
The MRI from the day before
had previously required a contrast medium therefore an IV. That did not go well. It required four pokes and re enforcement of
techies. They found one good line so I
kept the elastic on it all night to protect it for today. Wrong.
That collapses it and didn’t help anything. So today was long and
slow. I started in with my practiced
breath meditation and finally resorted to silently singing “Give said the
little stream.” Hoping that would aid
in the flow of blood. It took over a
half hour. Soon my tech ask another tech
to help her. That sounded like déjà vu
from yesterday. Hmmm, guess I am a high
maintenance client.
Now for the reason why I
laughed all the way home. It was what
Beth told me after we left. She was
sitting alone in the waiting room when it began to fill up. All the chairs are full and no workers are
out front and it is dead silent. People
are impatient and must know how quickly this process should move along. They sensed a gridlock somewhere. One left the office, one went for a smoke
outside and another lady finally spoke up.
“What’s going on? What is the
problem here?” “Have they gone to
lunch? It is only eleven o’clock?”
They start counting heads
and Beth finally speaks up. “I am not
here for a blood draw. I am waiting for
my husband who is in the back.” There
was a long pregnant silence as everyone processed that information. Then a client who identified herself as
“Debbie” responded, “Then maybe your husband is the problem.” Again silence. Beth nods her head in agreement. Maybe her husband is the problem. Not a comfortable thing to admit to perfect
strangers and to Debbie.
Again, Debbie speaks
up. “I think you should check on your
husband. He may be in trouble and they
are not telling you.” So Beth quickly
gets up and goes back to my drawing room.
She sees all the blood samples scattered across the counter that the two
tech’s are trying to take out of my right arm and returns to the waiting room
to report the 23 vials and 4 bottles of blood they are extracting from both
arms. And Deb, with an air of authority
responded, “That’s ridiculous, no doctor
should take that much blood from anyone.”
Another sympathetic soul asked, “Will your husband be able to walk and
go home?” There is then talk amongst the
waiting room if they all should now go back and check on me. Hmmmmm
how thoughtful.
With that, Beth retreated
back to the blood-drawing room to wait for me, thinking that was the safest
place to be. By that time, things were
nearly complete and Beth quickly shuttles me through the waiting area out to
the parking lot before the restless natives could say any more. Hats off to all the medical staffs everywhere
who work to care for us.
You are
Special.
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