All I Wanted for Valentine's Day...

...was a little prick.

And careful what you wish for - as I got it - in form of a needle in the arm last night…all part of a routine blood test…so as to ensure life of gin and saturated fat has not yet caught up to me.

I am terrible…TERRIBLE…with anything needles…blood…hospital-related (save hot doctors)...and literally feel sick to my stomach when entering any type of medi-centre…clinic…hospital…etc. I’m not sure where exactly it stems from, but have always felt that way…sheer panic.

Last night was no different as I sat making idle chit-chat with my partner-in-crime-best-friend in the waiting room…not sure what I was blithering on about actually - just filling the dead (no pun) air until my name(s) were called. So finally it was my turn and the lady - who I swear has been working there since before blood was invented and may just be into S&M in her spare time…was none too friendly…noting my fear and muttering something about “well at least you have great veins, but I’m sure you get that all the time”. (No actually – I’ve heard that about my hair...legs…boobs…humbleness…but never about my veins thanks!) props my arm up on some block type thing (I don’t know what it was really as at this point my eyes are squeezed shut and I am reciting the alphabet backwards in my head) and takes a running leap à la javelin thrower to launch sharp stick into arm. And then I feel the slip of my elbow onto the table…hear her “oh shit” and then hear “Marilyn get in here”…and I close my eyes tighter...retreat further into my head...“s-r-q-p...it will be over soon." At which point Marilyn comes in …hands her another vial…and the day is saved. I can feel (not see…am not going to look…"d-c-b-a") her mopping up…and she says “Wow…you're a great spurter” (A great spurter? Well - I’ve never been accused of that…though I have accused others of same…) as I turn to note my blood spattered across the table…floor…wherever (except her white coat thankfully - because being the total loser I am I would feel bad had I stained her outfit after she mutilated my arm.) UGH…room spinning…head whoozy…sitting for a moment to regain composure as knees not working…

Anyways…colour eventually returned to my face…and all was fine until I went into the waiting room and saw him waiting patiently for me. And much like when a child bumps her head and is fine when no one notices, but wails at the top of her lungs when someone draws attention to the fall…crocodile tears start. Ice cream follows. Gentle talking and teasing. Laughter replacing shakiness. Boo-boo kissed better.

And that. That is what I really want for Valentine’s Day. No more pricks. And someone to fix my boo-boos.

You know who you are. See you tonight post 357…
~G