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I eventually dragged myself o hospital this morning. Resentfully. Almost sullen. £20 for taxis, a chunk out of the middle of my day. A brush with inefficiency. A second brush with inefficiency. Home.
Inefficiency one – I was told, on reporting to he main reception, I was booked in and that I should sit in the waiting area. After an hour and not a lot of action I went to the secondary reception desk and asked what was happening. They started shuffling through a plastic box of blood test requests. Mine weren’t in there as I still had them in my pocket. I seems that the main reception should have told me to hand my forms in when I got to the waiting area.
It’s a good thing I asked, otherwise I might still be there.
Eventually, someone came along to do the testing. A blind cobbler with a darning needle would have inspired more confidence.
I know that my veins are hard to hit, and are getting worse, the more they are used. But I also know who is and who is not a competent phlebotomist. And who has an acceptable bedside manner. Telling me that her lack of success is my fault because I am hard to test is a fail in my eyes.
It’s something I was born with, not something I have chosen. I had hydrated this morning, exercised and worn a short-sleeved shirt. There’s not much more I can do apart from cutting off a finger tip and having a tap fitted.
I sat through it without wincing or complaining. I made lighthearted conversation to encourage her. In return, she complained and took three attempts to get the blood. It wasn’t helped by the fact the doctor wanted five tubes.
Last time I gave that much blood they gave me a biscuit and a cup of tea.
Once I have recovered my composure I will write a post about how to start writing poetry.
Tomorrow I have another medical appointment, which I am hoping will be the last for some time.
Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com
I am sorry the blood draw did not go well. Over the course of my life I have experienced the range of phlebotomy expertise, from excellent to very bad, the very bad being somewhat like your experience. Fortunately that was a long, long, long time ago.
I have veins that present a poor target. I accept that. I accept the range of skills. But when I get told it is my fault, I admit my cheerful demeanour and false fixed grin started to slip . . .
Agreed!
🙂
You have answered my earlier question. No the blood test did not go well. Sorry. 🙂
Such is life, and WP. 🙂 The old “reading backwards” trick? To be fair, it’s jsut three holes in my arm and a fading memory. No more tests for two weeks now. 🙂
Very philosophical.
I have decided to embrace a new philosophy of complaining them moving on. That way my blood pressure stays down and I can fit in more complaints about other things. 🙂
Good thinking!
🙂
You are so helpless in such a situation. I wonder what would happen if you asked for someone else. When I had my second knee replacement, while I was anaesthetised they couldn’t get a catheter in. This was not something I knew was standard. There was no urologist on site so they had to wait for one to be called in before they could continue. This apparently took several hours. Afterwards I had problems from scar tissue they had left. Ever since I have been taking one tamsulosin a day. This is the only medication of any kind that I take. I cannot fault my bladder cancer treatment.
The NHS is generally very good at the big things, but they could be better at the small ones. A friend of mine had a hip replacement and told me he was left in a bed in a room where the button for calling the nurse was looped round a chair at the other side of the room. He was a consultant anaesthetist and said that the experience helped him see how small things could improve patient care .
I had a blood test a while back and I wasn’t too impressed by the people taking blood. When one of them couldn’t get the needle in someone called for the ‘specialist’. A young girl with her head shaved on one side, a stud through her nose and tatoos arrived. I was terrified until she spoke. She had the gentlest voice and gentle hands and I didn’t feel the needle go in and she took as much as was needed. After she left all the other nurses looked at me sheepishly and said things like ‘she is a magician and we all love her”
Some people just have the knack. I always tell the new ones that confidence is the key. I want a confident phlebotomist, not one who tells me they will have a go but don’t expect much.
A hard post to like. A little grumpiness seems quite in order.
It was definitely vexing but I have to admit there are worse things.
Can’t “like” this one. So sorry that you had such trouble. Sounds like a miserable time.
I’ve had better times, but let’s face it, compared to having a blood test in Gaza, Iran, Lebanon or Ukraine it was a doddle.
So true. Sigh.
However, we have homes and family and you have hummingbirds so we still have things to be cheerful about. 🙂
Oh, yes!
🙂