It Was Bound to Happen

It was bound to happen

The law of averages, my general luck (or absence thereof), it was merely a matter of time. Today was infusion day. Travis, my favorite hottie phlebotomist comes in to set up my IV. The famed Travis who has never had to do a second needle stab on me with my tiny, rolly, shitty veins for blood draws in the nearly 10 years I’ve been going to this medical practice, and two years of infusions (or has it been 3? Time flies when you're getting poked and prodded.). He comes in, straps the rubber band on my upper (right) arm, feels around for a good vein. (He’s the only person I’ve even known who can make searching for a vein for a needle stick into an erotic experience—but I digress.) He finds two possibilities, but is tentative. “We’re going for the one in the crook of the elbow.” He gets in, some blood surfaces in the catheter. But as he pulls the needle from the cath, nothing. He plays with it for a bit, moving and juggling, but the vein’s not cooperating. With resignation, he laments, “I’m going to have to try another vein.”
“Hey, it was bound to happen sometime. Don’t worry Travis, you’re still my favorite!” He goes to the left arm. I hate it in the left arm, as I’m a lefty. Also, when one of the other nurses took a blood draw last week, when I was in with my strep throat, she used the left arm. It still had some residual hematoma from that needle stick. But he liked that vein. So he went in. Success.

When my doc finally got in. The throat looks good. I tell him a bout passing out at home after my steam shower to sweat out the toxins. I’m mildly chastised for doing the steam shower, with instructions to not ever do a steam, with a fever, unless I totally load up on fluids before and after, and make sure someone is with me. (Even though it DID sweat out most of the toxins. I quit drenching the sheets in bed.) I’m sure sprawled out naked on my kitchen floor was not a pretty sight.

Cupid’s bow missed me (as usual). But I got poked by Travis twice for Valentine’s Day. IT could be worse. ©wtf/rle