The Phlebotomist is Having A Day

 

Cookie had a mad dash to the doctor today. 

I was scheduled for blood tests today in advance of a follow-up with the surgeon when one of these God Damn messages from their automated system comes in and told me that I need to check in for my appointment. 

But the bloodletting was scheduled for 10:30.  Now it's 9:30?  Well you can't call the doctor without getting trapped in the Hellish phone tree, and not wanting to miss my window, I decide to make a run for it.

So I grab a jacket, push the Prius to its limits, and make it to the medical building ten minutes late, so I am technically on time in Baltimore metrics. (You can be up to a half hour late here, they don't care.)

I sign in and get called up only to be told that my appointment is at 10:30, which I thought.  

So Cookie shows them the message, they look it up, and Receptionist tells me that "that's for next week."

"But shouldn't it give me a date for the appointment check-in?"

"One would think.  You should have called," says Receptionist.

"Your phone tree isn't easy to work through," said I.

Receptionist says, and I quote: "Yeah, we hear that a lot." and then, crickets.

I mean it's not her job to fix it, but a Comcast representative will tell you the same thing about their phone tree, which is closer to the black hole of Calcutta than anything service related. Yet these systems never get fixed.

Anyway, I get to the Vampires Den, and I think were doing one tube. I get Hotty McHotty, the male phlebotomist, and he asks how I am doing.  

"I am having a day," I reply. 

"You and me both."

Now Miss Thing is built well, looks damn good in scrubs, has a dimple in his chin, and is totally desire-worthy, but he is a prima donna.  I have seen him at the home of one of the neighborhood power couples. 

"I'm sorry."

"I'll live.  The world keeps going." Then he says under his breath "Keep it together, Minnelli."

Reader, it took every ounce of strength not to laugh.

Then a woman I have never seen comes by and tells Hotty to take a break and she'll stick me. Sotto voce she tells me "He's having a day."

Out comes my arm, looking for veins, pat, pat, pat, and she finds one she likes, then she remembers "I need to get the tubes."

Tubes?

I thought this was just a follow-up PSAT.  WRONG.  They haul out a whole battery of tubes. 

She sticks me, and I don't feel a thing.  This woman is good. And better her than Hotty, because you don't want Miss Thing jabbing you if his mind is someplace else, like looking at his husband's messages on that man's phone. 

So it was four vials, and she admonishes me for not drinking enough water before coming over, and then she hands me a cookie. 

"Usually we only give these out when we draw a lot of blood." I didn't fuss or freak out, so it was my reward for being a compliant patient.

Then she says, "He's a little off, but he'll be better in a moment. I'd appreciate you not mentioning that to the doctor when you see him."

"Me?" I say. "Not the doctor.  Besides, who am I going to tell?  "  

And I have not broken that promise.