Using the word, phlebotomist!

I love random weird situations. I feel my blog is as good a place as any to share my latest odd times.

I got my blood drawn a few days ago by one of the most unprofessional phlebotomists I've ever encountered. I am sure you've encountered some unprofessional phlebotomists but most that I come across seem very competent. I am also very excited for this, my first chance to use the word "phlebotomist" in a blog post.

I have been told on more than one occasion that I do not have very good veins. Phlebotomists always have a difficult time finding my veins. I have also been told that my veins roll like an old woman's. What the heck does that mean? I tried to give plasma in college to get some extra cash and was turned away because of my puny veins.

Usually when I am getting my blood drawn, I explain to the phlebotomist that my veins are hard to find. The last few times, the phlebotomist I told kind of waved me away as if to say that it would be no problem. They were able to draw my blood quickly and painlessly. I decided not to tell this lady since the other phlebotomists had been successful and acted like they didn't need my forewarning. Big mistake! This particular phlebotomist looks at my arms and tells me that my veins are awful. Then she puts the needle in and the blood collects very slowly in the vile. To which she says, "uh uh, this won't do." When the blood stops flowing far short of the desired amount, she sighs/groans and moves to the other arm.

During this whole procedure, she is talking to me about the U.S. military. She had noticed that I was wearing my brother's dog tag on my wrist and asked me about it. She then proceeded to tell me about her cousin who was retiring after 35 years and was crazy for being in it to begin with. She said there was no way she'd ever let her son go over there. No way. Uh uh. Uh uh. Luckily I am not easily offended.

Mid- antimilitary tirade, she starts trying to find a vein in my right arm. This is way worse than the first. She seems to basically be digging the needle into my arm in search of a vein. It was painful and felt a bit invasive. Luckily I am not afraid of needles, because the digging was enough to freak even me out. She finally found a vein and filled up the final vile. Then just as I was getting up to go, she dropped the veil on the floor (thankfully it was plastic) and it rolled under the cabinet. I sure hope she found it because there's no way I am going back to her, the unprofessional phlebotomist.