The Horror Of Small Veins
Jun. 14th, 2011 02:23 pmThis morning, my veins refused to cooperate. Three punctures to the left arm, one to the right, and we realized it just couldn't be done. So I went home. Decided maybe one arm was almost cool or I was vaguely in need of water and didn't know, and set about fixing both at once. It probably didn't help that I was seated in a chair directly below the air conditioning--and another vent was below my chair in the waiting room.
Between 9 AM and 1:30 PM, I drank 2 glasses of tea, 7 glasses of hot water, ate a meal that was far hotter than usual after microwaving it nearly to death, flexed my arm periodically, tapped the area the way they do to get the veins to pop up, and wore a jacket--without any fans on--for about an hour, with it being 70 degrees outside. Those of you that know I'm freakishly hot natured know how insane that is.
I went back at 1:40. Turned out (since a few people wondered about the kneeling woman when they went back there) the lady taking blood spent her 30 minute lunch break in the bathroom praying to God that she could find my veins this time. Because she hates hurting me. She was preparing to lose it on my behalf if it didn't work this time.
We tried again. The experiment was a success, they managed to get the blood they need, the woman kept her sanity and squealed, and I'm heading for the iced tea to cool off again. Everyone suspects that my veins are simply finicky, and weren't interested in giving them anything at that moment. I agree.