Damn phlebotomists!
Phlebotomists for those of you who have been blessed with good health - are bloody professionals. They make a living from drawing your last ounce of blood. Unfortunately, due to unhealthy circumstances I've encountered thousands of them in my life.
This post is not for the weak of heart. So if you're like WL and faint at the sight of a syringe or cringe at a description of one, here's a better site for you to read.
So Wednesday was my big day. After managing to avoid a phlebotomist for an entire year (a new personal record since 1998), it was time to face them again. While I'm not scared of syringes I am considered in medical terms a "hard stick." This means, that finding a vein in me is equivalent to finding oil in Israel (while you may assume that being in the Middle East Israel should be blessed with oil, you'd be darn lucky if you managed to find an oil well in the Holy Land).
Typically, a visit to Quest Diagnostics (the blood lab) involves an hour wait, and a half hour ordeal with a phlebotomist. Being a rather understanding and generous patient, I used to let them stick me five times before giving up. Hey, if they don't practice on me, they'll end up practicing on this poor young child who won't be as understanding as I am. But due to an overkill of blood tests and infusions in the past five years, my veins are mostly collapsed or blocked with scar tissue.
Back to Wednesday - to make it a bit easier on the phlebotomist I drank about three times as much as I typically drink in a day (which is about a fifth of how much a normal person drinks to begin with, but that's besides the point). I got to Quest at 3pm, to avoid the hour wait and possible dehydration. Gave my paperwork to the lady, she looked it over and in a disgusted look gave the paperwork to the lady next to her saying, "Why don't you take her. This is about a hundred labels! I don't have patience for this." So I moved over, cheerfully exclaiming that I think she was exaggerating and it's not a 100 labels, but probably just 50. The lady looks at it and starts counting. Half a minute later she nods and says, "Oh yeah, this is going to be a lot." So I decided to be helpful and said, "Look, I want to warn you ahead of time - they may not be able to get all the vials out of me, so you may need to separate the tests on the computer, so it can easily be cancelled later on." At this point, Ms. I-know-better looks at me and says, "But you didn't even give us a chance!" Apologetically I say, "Oh, I'm just saying this so you don't get upset later on. I figured it's best if I prepare you ahead of time." Ms. I-know-better continues to register me, and doesn't even bother asking how much experience I have with this office and I wasn't about to volunteer information, fearing I'll get chewed up again for speaking up. (Though I'm dying to tell her the names of all the phlebotomists who've tried me and failed, and all the times they've lost my blood tests, and all the times they messed up my paperwork).
When she was done registering me, she sent me to the lab. The lady at the lab, Ms. Know-it-all, starts laying out the seven vials and I start out with my usual warning, "I'm a really hard stick. You'll probably need a butterfly needle for this." As I watch her eyes roll up, I consider using the B word, but I don't cuss, so I just smile pleasantly and explain where she'll find a vein. Then I tell her that it's going to be a problem to fill up all these huge vials and she may want to grab the pediatric vials instead. She looks at me with disdain and says, "we don't have pediatric vials here!" (Funny, you seemed to have them every other time I've been through here!).
As she checks my vein, another phlebotomist comes by to say goodbye before heading on vacation. The two talk about vacation, while Ms. Know-it-all is just feeling my arm and checking to see where there's a vein. Then she asks the future vacationer - "Is this a vein?" I'm about to die now, when the vacationer says, "Oh no you didn't! You didn't just ask me that, did you??" But I'm a nice person, and I let her carry on, knowing already the expected outcome of THIS beginner. Before she picks up the vial I tell her, "Look, I prefer if you did this one test first and the others later." She says "fine" picks up the vial, inserts the needle. Sure enough, after half a minute of digging around, she removes it and says, "Sorry, no luck. You're going to have a big mark there." Duh!
My patience with these rude phlebotomists was about to run out so I told her, "Is there someone else who can try it next?" So she goes out and here comes Ms. I-know-better. I laughed and said, "I told you so." She wasn't all too happy about this.
She goes to the cabinet and grabs a couple of pediatric vials when Ms. Know-it-all apologizes to her and says, "oh, I always forget we have those...." (I feel like getting up to slap her silly). Then I notice that Ms. Know-it-all did not transfer the information to Ms. I-know-better. So I decide to tell her myself, "can you please take this blood test first and if you manage to get more than one vial out of me you can move on to the other blood tests?!" She is now just about had it with me and starts arguing, "No, I can't!" I smile pleasantly while thinking "b*tch!" and say, "And why exactly can't you???" She starts talking to me like I was an idiot saying, "because I can get more tests out of this one vial then I would get from the other one." At this point I realise she needs some common sense to be able to work in this lab, so I give her a quick lesson, "Alright, listen now. The FSH, LH and Prolactin test I can only do ONCE A MONTH! If you only get one vial out of me, and it's NOT for this test, then I have to wait for an entire MONTH before I can get this done again. Whereas if you don't manage to get another vial out of me for the CBC, Chem7, VitaminD, B12 and CRP test, no big deal - I'll come back next week. Understood?" It now dawns on her that I freaking know what I'm talking about, so reluctantly she agrees.
Ms. I-know-better picks up the butterfly and asks me where did Ms. Know-it-all try already. I open my arm, I don't have to point - it's blue and swollen enough to be self evident. So she starts looking at my hand, at which time I tell her, "Don't bother! Those are painted on. They're not real veins. And anyway, you don't want me screaming from pain here." She shifts her eyes to my wrists, and I tell her, "Those are all shot to hell from infusions." By now the ball must have dropped and she realises she's dealing with someone with plenty experience so she asks me, "ok, where do you have a vein?" I shrug and point to my abused arm, "This was the only place." But then I decide to be nice and say, "Well the other arm sometimes has a vein that works here on the side."
So she decided to go for it and puts the tourniquet on like she's about to amputate my freaking arm. I asked her to release it a bit and that apparently annoyed her as she answered, "I can't find the vein without it!" (Yes, you can. But obviously you're intent on causing me as much pain as possible in the process). She found the vein and reached for the vial, when I notice it's the freaking wrong one. I took a deep breath and she realised it and put the vial down to pick the correct one. A minute passes, two minutes, I'm done reading the fine print on every freaking piece of paper on the table - trying to distract myself from the pain from the tourniquet. After three minutes she released the tourniquet and said, "I can't get any more vials out of you. The blood just stopped flowing." She got one vial. I look at her with a big question, "But you got the one vial for the LH test, RIGHT?" She defeatedly says, "Yes, I did." I triumphantly say, "Good! I'll come another week for the other six vials." (Yeah, right. When pigs become kosher flies!)
At this point I'm upset because had she listened to me to begin with, she could have separated all that blood from this one huge vial into the six other pediatric vials and all the tests could have been done. And yes, that was sufficient blood for each of those tests. Those tests don't require more than a spurt from a finger!
She rips up the "100 labels" and hands me the paper back. At this point I wondered, "ok, when can I take six days off work for each vial???"
Then she slaps on my arm this silly Warner bros. daffy duck band aid.
Oh yeah, now I feel a whole lot better. [rolling eyes]
This post is not for the weak of heart. So if you're like WL and faint at the sight of a syringe or cringe at a description of one, here's a better site for you to read.
So Wednesday was my big day. After managing to avoid a phlebotomist for an entire year (a new personal record since 1998), it was time to face them again. While I'm not scared of syringes I am considered in medical terms a "hard stick." This means, that finding a vein in me is equivalent to finding oil in Israel (while you may assume that being in the Middle East Israel should be blessed with oil, you'd be darn lucky if you managed to find an oil well in the Holy Land).
Typically, a visit to Quest Diagnostics (the blood lab) involves an hour wait, and a half hour ordeal with a phlebotomist. Being a rather understanding and generous patient, I used to let them stick me five times before giving up. Hey, if they don't practice on me, they'll end up practicing on this poor young child who won't be as understanding as I am. But due to an overkill of blood tests and infusions in the past five years, my veins are mostly collapsed or blocked with scar tissue.
Back to Wednesday - to make it a bit easier on the phlebotomist I drank about three times as much as I typically drink in a day (which is about a fifth of how much a normal person drinks to begin with, but that's besides the point). I got to Quest at 3pm, to avoid the hour wait and possible dehydration. Gave my paperwork to the lady, she looked it over and in a disgusted look gave the paperwork to the lady next to her saying, "Why don't you take her. This is about a hundred labels! I don't have patience for this." So I moved over, cheerfully exclaiming that I think she was exaggerating and it's not a 100 labels, but probably just 50. The lady looks at it and starts counting. Half a minute later she nods and says, "Oh yeah, this is going to be a lot." So I decided to be helpful and said, "Look, I want to warn you ahead of time - they may not be able to get all the vials out of me, so you may need to separate the tests on the computer, so it can easily be cancelled later on." At this point, Ms. I-know-better looks at me and says, "But you didn't even give us a chance!" Apologetically I say, "Oh, I'm just saying this so you don't get upset later on. I figured it's best if I prepare you ahead of time." Ms. I-know-better continues to register me, and doesn't even bother asking how much experience I have with this office and I wasn't about to volunteer information, fearing I'll get chewed up again for speaking up. (Though I'm dying to tell her the names of all the phlebotomists who've tried me and failed, and all the times they've lost my blood tests, and all the times they messed up my paperwork).
When she was done registering me, she sent me to the lab. The lady at the lab, Ms. Know-it-all, starts laying out the seven vials and I start out with my usual warning, "I'm a really hard stick. You'll probably need a butterfly needle for this." As I watch her eyes roll up, I consider using the B word, but I don't cuss, so I just smile pleasantly and explain where she'll find a vein. Then I tell her that it's going to be a problem to fill up all these huge vials and she may want to grab the pediatric vials instead. She looks at me with disdain and says, "we don't have pediatric vials here!" (Funny, you seemed to have them every other time I've been through here!).
As she checks my vein, another phlebotomist comes by to say goodbye before heading on vacation. The two talk about vacation, while Ms. Know-it-all is just feeling my arm and checking to see where there's a vein. Then she asks the future vacationer - "Is this a vein?" I'm about to die now, when the vacationer says, "Oh no you didn't! You didn't just ask me that, did you??" But I'm a nice person, and I let her carry on, knowing already the expected outcome of THIS beginner. Before she picks up the vial I tell her, "Look, I prefer if you did this one test first and the others later." She says "fine" picks up the vial, inserts the needle. Sure enough, after half a minute of digging around, she removes it and says, "Sorry, no luck. You're going to have a big mark there." Duh!
My patience with these rude phlebotomists was about to run out so I told her, "Is there someone else who can try it next?" So she goes out and here comes Ms. I-know-better. I laughed and said, "I told you so." She wasn't all too happy about this.
She goes to the cabinet and grabs a couple of pediatric vials when Ms. Know-it-all apologizes to her and says, "oh, I always forget we have those...." (I feel like getting up to slap her silly). Then I notice that Ms. Know-it-all did not transfer the information to Ms. I-know-better. So I decide to tell her myself, "can you please take this blood test first and if you manage to get more than one vial out of me you can move on to the other blood tests?!" She is now just about had it with me and starts arguing, "No, I can't!" I smile pleasantly while thinking "b*tch!" and say, "And why exactly can't you???" She starts talking to me like I was an idiot saying, "because I can get more tests out of this one vial then I would get from the other one." At this point I realise she needs some common sense to be able to work in this lab, so I give her a quick lesson, "Alright, listen now. The FSH, LH and Prolactin test I can only do ONCE A MONTH! If you only get one vial out of me, and it's NOT for this test, then I have to wait for an entire MONTH before I can get this done again. Whereas if you don't manage to get another vial out of me for the CBC, Chem7, VitaminD, B12 and CRP test, no big deal - I'll come back next week. Understood?" It now dawns on her that I freaking know what I'm talking about, so reluctantly she agrees.
Ms. I-know-better picks up the butterfly and asks me where did Ms. Know-it-all try already. I open my arm, I don't have to point - it's blue and swollen enough to be self evident. So she starts looking at my hand, at which time I tell her, "Don't bother! Those are painted on. They're not real veins. And anyway, you don't want me screaming from pain here." She shifts her eyes to my wrists, and I tell her, "Those are all shot to hell from infusions." By now the ball must have dropped and she realises she's dealing with someone with plenty experience so she asks me, "ok, where do you have a vein?" I shrug and point to my abused arm, "This was the only place." But then I decide to be nice and say, "Well the other arm sometimes has a vein that works here on the side."
So she decided to go for it and puts the tourniquet on like she's about to amputate my freaking arm. I asked her to release it a bit and that apparently annoyed her as she answered, "I can't find the vein without it!" (Yes, you can. But obviously you're intent on causing me as much pain as possible in the process). She found the vein and reached for the vial, when I notice it's the freaking wrong one. I took a deep breath and she realised it and put the vial down to pick the correct one. A minute passes, two minutes, I'm done reading the fine print on every freaking piece of paper on the table - trying to distract myself from the pain from the tourniquet. After three minutes she released the tourniquet and said, "I can't get any more vials out of you. The blood just stopped flowing." She got one vial. I look at her with a big question, "But you got the one vial for the LH test, RIGHT?" She defeatedly says, "Yes, I did." I triumphantly say, "Good! I'll come another week for the other six vials." (Yeah, right. When pigs become kosher flies!)
At this point I'm upset because had she listened to me to begin with, she could have separated all that blood from this one huge vial into the six other pediatric vials and all the tests could have been done. And yes, that was sufficient blood for each of those tests. Those tests don't require more than a spurt from a finger!
She rips up the "100 labels" and hands me the paper back. At this point I wondered, "ok, when can I take six days off work for each vial???"
Then she slaps on my arm this silly Warner bros. daffy duck band aid.
Oh yeah, now I feel a whole lot better. [rolling eyes]
posted at
8/08/2005 06:45:00 AM
1 Comments:
Daffy duck makes everything better.
By
aNON, at 12:01 PM, August 08, 2005
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