Adventures in Bloodletting
May. 15th, 2008 07:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
superbadgirlI am starting to think there's no such thing as a quick donation. First they had to run my numbers twice. This wasn't terrible. I got two fingers poked instead of one, but it's much less painful now than it used to be. The second guy was slower than friggin' molasses, though. Of course, he was the one to lead me out into the main area and would do the actual poking and stuff.
It took him ten minutes to get everything set up. He found my vein twice. Wandered away. Found the vein again. Scrubbed my arm with the stuff my chart clearly says I'm allergic to. Found the vein AGAIN. Stuck me. Missed the vein. KEPT MISSING THE VEIN FOR FIVE MINUTES, by which time it really started to hurt. I told him so. He called for assistance. Too late. Bruising and swelling.
Removed needle and wandered away to re-needle my collection bags. That took about ten minutes. Finally put a bandaid on the original wound. Moved to the other side, and began the process anew. It went a little more quickly this time, but not much. Scrubbed my OTHER arm with the stuff my chart clearly says I'm allergic to. I know, I should have said something after the first one, but holy shit - DO YOUR JOB, DUDE! This time, the needle went in smoothly. No pain in that arm. Huzzah, drinks all around!
The original arm still hurts.
After I pumped out the blood (very quickly, for someone had to move with alacrity), he wandered away and left me unbandaged for another ten minutes. Eight minutes in, he rushed back and asked me if I was allergic to the stuff it says I'm allergic to on my chart. Made a big show of checking my left arm, which has had no reaction. (Because that whole thing stemmed from the phlebotomist who didn't scrub my arm at all a few months back. They're the ones who chose to believe it was an allergy instead of me being truthful.) Removed that band-aid, replaced it, wandered away and at long last came back to give me a bandage for my other arm. He kept apologizing, only serving to annoy me even more.
Goddamn, is that not ridiculous?
On the plus side, Ms. Sunny Sunshine Phlebotomist was talking about some song on the radio I didn't recognize. I said I was too old for that shit. She asked me my age. I didn't lie. She did, though, saying she would have guessed 26. Bless her heart. I'm embarrassed that lie always works on me. I presume it's a lie, anyway, though it comes off more genuine from another woman for some reason.
Now I have to go watch the clock while I wait for 9 PM, hoping all the while my left arm does not fall off. I hate being on the west coast sometimes. ;)
It took him ten minutes to get everything set up. He found my vein twice. Wandered away. Found the vein again. Scrubbed my arm with the stuff my chart clearly says I'm allergic to. Found the vein AGAIN. Stuck me. Missed the vein. KEPT MISSING THE VEIN FOR FIVE MINUTES, by which time it really started to hurt. I told him so. He called for assistance. Too late. Bruising and swelling.
Removed needle and wandered away to re-needle my collection bags. That took about ten minutes. Finally put a bandaid on the original wound. Moved to the other side, and began the process anew. It went a little more quickly this time, but not much. Scrubbed my OTHER arm with the stuff my chart clearly says I'm allergic to. I know, I should have said something after the first one, but holy shit - DO YOUR JOB, DUDE! This time, the needle went in smoothly. No pain in that arm. Huzzah, drinks all around!
The original arm still hurts.
After I pumped out the blood (very quickly, for someone had to move with alacrity), he wandered away and left me unbandaged for another ten minutes. Eight minutes in, he rushed back and asked me if I was allergic to the stuff it says I'm allergic to on my chart. Made a big show of checking my left arm, which has had no reaction. (Because that whole thing stemmed from the phlebotomist who didn't scrub my arm at all a few months back. They're the ones who chose to believe it was an allergy instead of me being truthful.) Removed that band-aid, replaced it, wandered away and at long last came back to give me a bandage for my other arm. He kept apologizing, only serving to annoy me even more.
Goddamn, is that not ridiculous?
On the plus side, Ms. Sunny Sunshine Phlebotomist was talking about some song on the radio I didn't recognize. I said I was too old for that shit. She asked me my age. I didn't lie. She did, though, saying she would have guessed 26. Bless her heart. I'm embarrassed that lie always works on me. I presume it's a lie, anyway, though it comes off more genuine from another woman for some reason.
Now I have to go watch the clock while I wait for 9 PM, hoping all the while my left arm does not fall off. I hate being on the west coast sometimes. ;)
