please take a number

so who decided that the place where you get your blood drawn should handle their business the same way that stop and shop's deli department does? first of all, i get there before the place even opens and there's a line 12 people deep. you'd think they were waiting to get first picks for dave matthews tickets.

while waiting in line i had to, of course, be in front of a mentally challenged man smelled so offensive that i wanted to spray him down with lysol. half way through the wait to get in, his father tells hims... "maybe we should change up that shirt today" (it was a hand colored special olympics shirt none-the-less). the man ahead of me was wearing a hootie and the blowfish concert tee shirt and that i found almost funnier than the hand colored special olympic tee.

needless to say, we all sit around at 7am with our numbers in hand waiting to be called back. "number 11" is called, thats me i win and i sarcastically run in waving my number in the air, which i have decorated with flower drawings while i waited a half hour.

behind door number 2.... the nurse from hell. now i don't mean to brag, but living with two chemists, i have been complimented on my great veins and in the past the nurses have quickly obtained their sample with no problems whatsoever. well not this woman, she could not have skewered a cantaloupe with a kabob rod!

she tries arm number 1... inserts the needle and proceeds to wriggle in around, talking to herself, "man that vein keeps on moving".... after a bit of agony, i suggest lets try the other arm, perhaps you might find something there instead. she pulls out the needle and does not apply pressure, just leaves it to turn her focus on arm number 2. arm two, she picks the smaller of two veins and yet again wriggles it around and mumbles to herself, this time she finally finds what she's looking for, so 6 tubes of blood later, and a near coronary from the pain of the stick, its over. she fails to bandage it properly and i go home looking like a heroin addict craving a fix. my dad near shits himself when he sees the damage this woman has inflicted on me and is in awe of the nurses massive failure.

so i sit here at work, my arm is throbbing like no other with a giant bruised lump and i really wish i had gotten a better number. maybe next time ill be lucky number 13, god knows what would happen then.