I just went to give blood, because yesterday the blood bank called me and frantically said “We have less than one day’s worth of your blood type. Please come in and donate!”.
So I went in, filled out the lengthy questionnaire (I had to lie about the wild sex I had last week with the gay African IV-drug-user), suffered the iron prick, and finally sat down next to BJ and waited to be drained. The lady came over, iodined me, and stuck the needle in, but it really hurt! She said it wasn’t working right (i.e. she had stuck it in wrong) and dug around with the needle looking for the blood to start flowing. That hurt even more! Finally, after a lot of unfruitful poking and squeezing, she threw in the towel and inquired about my other arm. I thought to myself “I don’t think so lady!” She and another more qualified nurse searched my left arm and gave up, claiming they couldn’t find any veins that would work.
I feel so impotent! I went in to donate blood, to do my part! But then some inexperienced phlebotomist messed up the insertion, and the whole thing was shot to hell. And the nerve of them, to make me feel like it was ultimately my fault - than my veins weren’t “visible” enough! Well maybe if you hadn’t screwed up and vein-raped my right arm in the first place!
Last time, it all went so well. The blood flowed, I met a cute P.E. teacher who slipped me the numba, I got pizza. This time: no flowing, no numba, just juice and an achey, undrained arm.
Posted by robyn at décembre 30, 2003 06:18 PMI applaud your use of the term "numba" as a means of giving the previous visit an expecially cool and successful vibe. Really helped play up the dramatic irony of this most recent visit.
...which was indeed a lame and miserable failure. See what happens when you try to help people? They spit in your face. Or your arm. with a needle.
Posted by: kati at décembre 31, 2003 01:01 AM