She told me she was scared. Hung her scarf on the door knob. Took off her jacket. Smiled. There was food stuck between her teeth. Maybe from last night. A salad. At a night restaurant. With a steak. Or fish. Salmon. And a man. She had no ring. Too trendy, she’d say if I asked. Maybe this woman had a man.
Steak and salad at a nice restaurant then off to the local free health clinic for a lipid panel and hemoglobin A1C the next morning. Not so logical. But this is what I do for patients I see. Make up stories of their lives. Make them glamourous. They are wealthy. Wear jewelry. Drive cars with automatic car starters and GPS systems that they use even if they go somewhere they know. That they own businesses in New York. Steel plants, car dealerships, are CEO’s of advertising agencies. The kind that come up with Old Spice commercials. Or Right Guard.
It makes it better when I know they are sick. The rich get better.
I felt for her veins. One finger. Two fingers. She clenched her hand.
Get it over with, I hate this, she told me.
I know. Be brave, I told her. I’ll go as fast as I can. What are you doing after this? I asked.
Going to see a movie, she said. It’s my reward. The new Underworld one.
I didn’t tell her it was my first day of drawing blood. That she was my fifth patient. That I made the third one bleed because I took out the needle before the vial and the vacuum pulled. That her veins were worse than the others before her. I felt it. Drew on her with a pen. Marked my place.
I only want to have to do this once, I told her. I smiled. She tried to smile.
Me too, she said.
I put on the needle. Took off the cap. Put the two vials on the desk next to me. 30 degrees I angled it. Pushed it under her skin. She jumped. Twisted. We looked at each other. I started to sweat. She clenched her first. We both wanted the same thing. For it to be over.
Hold your arm still, I told her. I could see the needle moving in the vein. The first vial was bigger. Tiger-capped color. You have to do these first, the second year told me.
And the vial filled. Because I hit her vein. Because my mark was right on the first try. Because I felt in the right place. But it filled slow. So slow. Painstakingly, watch her bite her nails, tap her foot against the tile, tilt her head to ask God to make this go faster and make gasping noises to be overdramatic slow.
And that was just the first vial.
This is how writing is. Like drawing blood. We’re careful. Too careful. Afraid to push, to go deep under the skin to get to what we need. What we’ve come for. We listen to others, let their fears influence us. Do what we think they want. Stay superficial. Don’t go too deep she said. Don’t hurt me. Thinking the whole time that we are unqualified to be doing this. That we’re no more qualified to do this than deliver the mail, run the cash register at Wendy’s or instal electrical circuitry in a new home. That it’s someone else’s job.
That as soon as we begin we want it to be over. Done on the first try. No more. It’d hurt to much a second time.
Alan
Wow! Wow! That moved me. As a teacher, who attempts to write and teach children to write (often in vain) that post moved me. Well, done. Adding you to my blogroll now. Hope it is good with you. Keep up the great writing and the great thinking behind the writing.
So, here it goes again.
Today this post saved my sanity. I know it’s sort of an old post but I remembered reading it and it brought me peace of mind. I went to the doctor today to get blood drawn. I had never before had blood removed from my body and while I have become less terrified of needles, we still are not on BFF status. I had a nursing student come in and when I told her that I was a little scared she looked more terrified than I. As I laid back and let her tie that scary band around my arm and silently prayed that my fingers didn’t fall off since I could no longer feel them, I thought of you, turned to her and said, “I’m okay. I trust you. You will do it.”
She didn’t. She tried three times and went to get another nurse. It had hurt but I tried to be nice to her and make sure that she knew I didn’t blame her. I probably have bad veins.
The next nurse student came in, a cocky European man who told me that he always got the needle in the first try. I laughed nervously. He didn’t let me lay down so I just closed my eyes. The pain was worse than the first 3 times but I told myself that it would be over soon. It wasn’t; he missed. He looked determined and said there was no way he would miss my vein. I was more nervous about my hands but he looked confident. I told him ok. He stabbed me before I could even look away. My eyes teared up. It was awful. I could feel the needle under my skin….he was moving it. I knew he missed it and just wanted him to take it out. He was sure that he could get the other hand. I asked him to take it out of my arm but he refused and said it was going to be the only way. I tried to keep thinking “He’s a student. Be nice to him. He is trying to help. You would want someone to be nice to you.” The girl nurse student was still in the room. She told me she was sorry as the man turned around to get another needle. She held my hand. He jabbed in the needle again and I started to cry as he yelled at me not to move.
He missed. He blamed me….left the room in a huff. My hand was swollen and purple. The other one was beginning to swell too. The nurse got me band aids so I wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.
The man came in with the supervising nurse and without saying a word, pointed at me and left. I must have broken his streak. I smiled at the girl and said “At least I knocked him off his high horse.” I winked. She laughed. I didn’t want them to stab me again. I was sweating yet freezing cold; I didn’t want to make the girl feel bad but I was starting to get very restless.
The supervisor walked over and smiled at me. She apologized for her students. I told her I had friends in med school and I understoof that it’s hard when you start. She was trying to stick me in a vein I couldn’t even see. I was nervous. She hit it on the first try and told me I could go.
I left covered in bandaids and bruises but also a little bit of happiness that I hopefully helped someone learn. I only wish that I could have helped her hit it the first time. What a day.
Thanks for the bit of perspective. Sorry about the play by play