Don't Tell Me That

There I sat under the cozy red fleece blanket wondering if truly the woman that stood before me was actually going to be the person trying to stick a needle into my oh so wonderful vein. She was.

You see, I have donated blood, donated plasma, and had IVs plenty of times. Dozens of times. Most of the time I can usually watch them sticking me too. And from all this experience I have learned

1. I have wonderful, easy to find veins.
2. In both arms
3. Even new phlebotomists in their first week of real work have no problem finding my veins.

Now, I learned all of this from the comments made by my handful of different phlebotomists that not only made me feel so proud of my veins, but also fairly confident in their ability to get the vein on the first try. No digging around with multiple sticks. Now, I admit sometimes there might have been a little bluffing. The newbie phlebotomist that whole heartedly agreed that I had easy veins, still looked a little concerned about the situaion. But at least he didn't admit it.

Today I went to donate blood, for the first time in a long time. (And hopefully the beinning of many 8-week interval visits). After doing my paperwork and heading to the donation room, which was icy cold, I was all set to go. Until they turned me over to the phlebotomist of the morning. She nicely took my blood pressure, pulse, and finger pricked me to check for anemia (of which I am not). Then after much pumping of my fist, she looks at my arm, furrows her brows, rubs my arm a little bit, furrows the brows more. I think, "I have wonderful veins. Why can't she see that?" She continues to rub, poke, prod my arm in so many ways.

"Oh! Your wrist isn't turned. That must be the problem"
She turns my wrist. Then crunches her face even more. (How much can one furrow their brows before their face implodes?) At this point, I was feeling mildly concerned in her competence, but tried to blame it on the icy cold room and the hope that my blood just wasn't flowing. Then she ruined it all.

Stepping back she says, "Geez, they are just so small. I can hardly see them"
She leans in to rub my arm some more, "Hmmmm, I don't know. I mean. Hmmmmm."
I feebley offer that she can check my other arm if she thinks she will have better luck.
"No. No. We can do this. We can make it work." She sounded mostly like she was convincing herself.
Okay, every last shred of confidence I have in the situation, in her, is gone. "WE" can not "make this work". YOU need to make it work, and possibly work well on the first try if at all possible. Obviously she missed the most important lesson on phlebotomist bedside manner...

1. Never show fear.
2. Never suggest to the patient that there might be problems
3. This doesn't mean to lie to patients and tell them there won't be any problems. Simply omit the fact that you are not fully confident in their veins. Wait and see how the first run goes. If it goes badly, then you blame their small hard-to-find veins. Not before. Save the rest of us, who have awesome veins, the agony and fear I went through today.

And the lesson should be well learned. She stuck that needle right into my arm, "Hey, that was easy. And you are flowing fast!"

Yes, that would be my super vein.





The best part of the day: free sodas, juice, cookies, crackers, yummies afterwards. I helped myself to OJ and Fig Newtons. (oh, and the clean fleece blanket- clean being key) So, go donate today. You can even make appointments online at Lone Star Donor.



(Just hope someone else sticks you)