Paraphrasing the Simpson's Comic Book Guy--"Worst Phlebotomist Ever!"
Monday morning, with Liz on the road, Robbie and I went to the lab for my weekly blood draw. Robbie is a little doctor-leery, so I saw this as a good opportunity to show him there was nothing to be afraid of.
The regular lab was closed, and a sign on the door redirected us to the St. Mary's Hospital. Drove over to the hospital, check into the lab, all the while explaining to Robbie that "it wouldn't hurt Daddy a bit".
The tech took us back into the drawing station, where Robbie watched raptly as she tied off the constriction band, swabbed the inside of my elbow with alcohol, and prepped the draw needle. As she moved in for the stick, I started talking Robbie through the experience.
The conversation could have gone like this: "See Robbie, there's nothing to be afraid of; this isn't going to hurt at SONOFABITCH!!!!" Seems that Stabarella, unchallenged by the sewer pipe veins on the inside of my elbow, decided to go for the style points of going for an obscure side vein. Jammed the needle in like she was a matador going the final coup de grace. I believe she went through the vein.
Instead, Robbie just heard "See Robbie, there's nothing to be afraid of; this isn't going to hurt at -urk- all (big smile)."
By the time we left, I had a knot the size of a marble under the stick site, and today it has spread into a 3" x 3" bruise.
Off to work now.
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