As I’m kind of confined to barracks with Dusty at the moment, I’m relying heavily on the internet for the special bits and pieces I normally like to shop for.
I don’t always buy Writing Magazine, but I do pick it up now and then as a treat if I go out of town and I particularly wanted May’s issue as I knew Deborah Carr had a piece in there. Delighted to find I could buy a single copy online – so I did. A quick flick through the pages and I see three friends in there, Lynne Hackles, Deborah Carr and Susan Jones – all lovely writing folk. I think I am going to enjoy reading this issue!
How many nurses/phlebotomists does it take to get a couple of phials of blood out of a Teresa? I’ll tell you – six and no it wasn’t five to hold me down while one got the blood.
Have to say it wasn’t six all at once – it happened over about 6 weeks what with having to make another appointment with three different nurses at the surgery each time. I’ve always had awkward veins. Just the mere mention of a needle and they bury themselves deep.
They’ve tried in my arms, my wrist, my hands…
I was awash with water each time, so not dehydrated and I made sure I was warm.
This week I went to the phlebotomy department at the walk in centre twenty miles away (leaving Dusty in safe hands at home) and three lovely ladies tried to get blood – the third succeeded. They were so nice and very kind - and I came away without as much as a bruise which is very unusual for me. I’ve taken a photo of the sweet spot on my arm where the third lady struck gold so if I ever need another one I can show exactly where they need to look.
Must admit I felt like crying when I saw those little tubes fill with blood – at last!
Not looking for sympathy here, just thinking it’s a good example of, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” Not that it was my success, but I was on the verge of giving up.
So whatever you're doing, if you want it badly enough, never give up! You'll get there in the end.