I don’t know if I ever told you this, but Helaine and I almost didn’t get married. It wasn’t a conflict. It was blood. Neither of us could give the sample.
In Helaine’s case it was probably because of difficulty finding her dainty veins. For me the problem was fear. I didn’t do needles!
As it turns out the older you get the more times you’re going to need your blood sampled.
I gave a little today as the final step in yesterday’s physical. The phlebotomist recognized me from my last trip.
“After you rub the alcohol on,” I began. These were the start of the instructions to reach my comfort zone.
“I know,” she said. “Don’t say anything. Just do it.”
I was playing around with my new iPhone at the time.
“That’s good,” she said. Keep busy.”
And so while she did her work, I played and shot off a few photos. In the end three test tubes of blood went quickly. There was no very little pain.
If you go back through this blog you’ll see a similar story repeated a number of times. Each time I go I’m scared. Each time I’m through I’m relieved.
I’ll still be scared the next time.