BLOOD

Today I got my blood drawn for the first time in my life.

It was NOT a wonderful experience.

After waiting for an hour, I finally got shuffled into Booth #5. The setup itself had me all nervous. No special attention. No bedside manner. I'm just one in a long line of people just waiting to be impaled by one of the overworked, underslept, possibly incompetent med students.

I walked into my booth and was immediately trailed by the plain-looking med student girl, snapping on her latex scary-gloves. She meant business. As the girl started to tie a tourniquet around my arm, I looked at her pleadingly, hoping to get some kind of emotion out of her hardened face.

In the absence of smiles, I uncontrollably began spewing off a bunch of nervously obnoxious questions:

"How long will this take?"
"Do you do this a lot?"
"How deep does the needle go?"
"Are you certified to do this?"
"If I start to pass out will you pull the needle out real quick so that it doesn't snap off and stay stuck in my arm?"

She attached the needle to the plastic tube-y thing and began rubbing my arm with an alcohol swab. OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD.

I turned my head and closed my eyes.

She stabbed me.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..." I squealed, girlishly, with my eyes shut tight.

It wasn't loud. But it was a definite steady squeal throughout the duration of the operation.

I heard the bitch giggling. Completely unprofessional.

"That's it, you're done!"

I opened my eyes. Looked at my arm all taped up.



I'M ALIVE!!!!