The prick of a needle

It's shiny. It's thin. It's sharp. It's usually attached to a tube with a vial or a bag on the other end. It looks like it could be an interesting toy. But its not interesting at all. It pricks. It hurts. Getting a shot. Getting blood drawn. Getting poisonous chemicals injected into the body. It's a needle.

Today I went to employee health for my health screening in order to volunteer in the ASK pediatric oncology clinic. Due to suppressed immunity systems of the patients, they need to be sure that I am completely healthy and have no hidden health issues that could compromise the health and treatment of the patients. At first I thought that I would just have to live through a TB test. Nope, had to have a full range of blood work. When the phlebotomist said that, I must have gone white because she asked if I was going to faint. Because you see, I have very small veins. Difficult for even the most skilled phlebotomist or nurse to find and now the woman who just confessed that she only draws blood about 3-4 times a week is going to stick me?

As she took the shiny, thin, sharp object from the package she asked where I was volunteering because most volunteer health screenings do not require the extensive tests I was having. I shared with her about the ASK clinic, its work and its mission. She commended me for doing that.

Commended me. Hm. I was about to faint from giving blood because I knew she would never find the vein and I would end up with 3 or 4 sticks. Last time I was in the clinic there were 2 children with needles larger than mine stuck in their skin. On the other end of my needle was a vial to catch the blood. On the other end of their needle was poison meant to save their lives. They were the ones to be commended, not me.

So while the phlebotomist was attempting to find a vein, we talked about the clinic and we talked about the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. She switched arms. The left arm was not working for her. I told her about my fundraising and how I wanted to be involved where the donation dollars are put to work. She found a vein on my right arm. It was small and the needle hurt like hell. I could feel it in the vein. The blood flowed out at an exceptionally slow pace because of the size of the vein. I told her that I was amazed. She got it on the second try, usually the third time was the charm. Then she said that she could tell how important this was to me and she was going to make it work.

Every now and then, the human race surprises me with surprised compassion. Nah, I am not to be commended. The phlebotomist who only draws blood 4 times a week but managed to get my blood on the second try is to be commended today.