Luck of the draw
Yesterday morning I needed to have some blood drawn as part of my annual physical checkup. The lab used by my doctor’s office has a large waiting room, but the space where they perform the actual blood draws is tiny, filled with a series of special chairs with gated lap tables for the patients’ arms. Ringed against the wall of the lab, the chairs face each other, which must provide a challenge when traffic is high for any patient who feels faint at the very sight of blood.
Several people drifted past the lab door while I waited outside nearby. One couple walked in together, then wandered out, are were about to walk in again when the woman waiting next to me cheerfully told them, “You need to pull a tab out of the number machine. It’s just like going to the deli.”
She and I were called into the lab at the same time by a tiny Asian woman who was going to draw blood from each of us in turn. Though there were three other phlebotomists in the room, the were all gathered around a window examining something of great interest together. I suddenly remembered the various times I had been to this lab before. There was the time one flub-otomist went into both my arms search of a vein — later resulting in ugly bruises on both sides — but kept missing until an excruciating third attempt. She had started talking about inserting a needle into my hand until I vigorously protested, “You can put a tourniquet on my arm for an hour before will I let you stick a needle anywhere near my hand.”
Yesterday’s phlebotomist, I recalled, was from the Philippines, with a sure and deft touch. As she began swabbing my arm, I started taking deep breaths to force myself to relax. Seeing my body go tense, the patient in the chair next to me began chatting with me to reassure me. “I’m trying to have a baby, so I’m here all the time,” she confided with a smile. “You’ve got the best person here working on you.”
“I know,” I replied, returning her smile and giving her the thumbs-up sign. She responded with a thumbs-up, and out of earshot from the window she added, “There’s tremendous variation among the people who work here. Tremendous. Variation.” Recalling my previous experiences, I nodded strongly. By then, I could no longer feel the needle resting in my arm. Within a few more moments, everything was done, and I was on my way.
As I waved goodbye to the other patient while “our” phlebotomist began preparing to draw blood from her, I silently hoped that the luck of the draw would someday bring her the baby she wished.
