The doctors and nurses say I have rolling veins, which means they're hard to catch with a syringe.
Over the past few months only two among the potential torturers have been able to stick me for blood work on first try. Once there were multi attempts by two different nurses leaving my left arm and hand a mass of bandages from failed attempts. Part of the problem is that having had cancer on my right side, they are only interested in the left.
For all I know my right veins don't roll, jump but stay in place like a good vein should.
My desire to become a human pin cushion is right up there with my wish to jump from an airplane at 30,000 feet without a parachute. The jump comes first.
Thus when I learned Friday not only was I signing consent forms for surgery on Tuesday they would again need blood work, I was unhappy. Still Pascale, one of those angel nurses in the unit thanked me for letting her know about rolling veins. She took her time but I barely felt the needle. She "nailed" it first try and took a second sample for next week and put it in the file. "Don't let them do it to you again," she said. "Make them read your file."
Bless her.
Meanwhile when ever a nurse approaches with a needle, I think of the old Rawhide theme which starts "roll em, roll em."
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