Not so sanguine after all

On Friday I went to the blood bank intent on making a liquid deposit. The nurse pricked my finger to test for my hemoglobin content. Minutes later, with what seemed like genuine disappointment, she said, “Ohh, your hemoglobin is too low! You can’t donate today.” She then launched into a crusade to recruit me to join their iron study. I thought about it for five seconds and then I said, No thanks. I didn’t want to deal with all the hassles of lab tests and followup questions. Enters Sarah, a young and frank looking nurse. She tells me that even if I don’t want to participate in the iron study, she can still draw up a few blood vials and run some tests to see if its anything serious. The hypochondriac in me relented, driven as much by morbid curiosity to see if there really is anything “terribly ill” about me.

She settles me down in a cushioned seat and has me lie on my back. She asked me which side of my arm would I prefer to have the blood drawn. I pointed to my left arm. Already though, I had a glimmer of thought that perhaps I should choose my stronger, more well used right arm. This thought came and went, and later I was to regret my choice…

She starts to wrap a rubber strap around my limp, skinny left arm. She feels for a vein that pops out. Across the smooth span of my arm, not a ripple can be seen. Everything is hidden well beneath. She tells me to squeeze a rubber ball with my left arm to get more blood action going. I complied graciously (my arm being at stake and all) She seems a bit hesitant but she brings out the needle anyway. Here goes, I thought, and I braced for the painful plunge. She injects me with the needle. Yowser!! It hurts! I looked away, because I have this belief that if I were to look at that metal thing sticking into my arm, it would hurt even more. I grimaced. Seconds later, she is still peering confusedly at my arm. She pulls the syringe back and nothing. No blood. She maneuvers the needle which is, must I remind you all, still stuck in my flesh!! She tries to poke it in the northern direction. No luck. In the eastern direction, PAINFUL!! All the while, I braved these assaults on my arm with admirable stoicism, but inside, I was screaming, Dude, lady! Hit the vein already, stop digging around! She probably caught a glimpse of the agony that was my face and she said, I’m going to take this out and not bother trying anymore. She pulls out the needle, (another sharp sensation of pain goes through me) and then she peers again at my arm, rather suspiciously. She asked, “do you have ANY blood in you? “ Indeed, not one drop welled to the surface to give testimony to how violated it was just seconds ago.

After all this, I thought I would be spared further pain and torture. Instead, the next thing I knew, she turned to me, smiled and said rather brightly, let’s try your right arm shall we? I managed a weak smile. Shall we indeed.