Snappy Answers To Stupid Questions

I awoke Thursday morning with a shooting pain in my flank. What’s a flank you ask? It’s a type of steak. But it’s also the side of a person’s body. In my case, it was my right side – not my right steak – that had me writhing in bed. The pain was so great that instead of sleeping in, I got out of bed at the crack of dawn (i.e. 9:30am) and went straight to the doctor’s office.

The doctor didn’t think my ailment was very serious, but to rule out any kidney issues, he had me provide a urine sample and take a blood test. The urine sample was easy: I peed right into this clear tiny cup all by myself, and I didn’t even dribble on the side or anything. Plus, as a favor to the doc, I topped it off completely - like a foamy pint of Bass Ale - to ensure he had enough. Doctors appreciate this kind of thing.

The blood test, however, was a bit more complicated. A nurse walked into the room, accompanied by a hapless intern. You could smell the inexperience (not literally; I doubt inexperience has its own aroma). Unfortunately for me, it was the newbie who would administer the blood test. Below is the play-by-play recap.

(Disclosure: I’m rather squeamish when it comes to all things blood-related. I think this goes back to the time when I was eight and I got hospitalized for asthma. They gave me an I.V. and the machine, instead of pumping me full of glucose, slowly withdrew a gallon of my blood via a thin clear tube. Assuming that this was the machine’s purpose, I just lay there, crying and withered, as my life left me.)

1. Intern ties tourniquet too loosely on my right arm. She continually slaps my forearm, looking for a vein. She gives up after one minute and looks to her mentor for advice. She appears panicked. I don’t like how this has started.
2. Nurse says, “Try the other arm.” She also recommends intern apply a tighter tourniquet. The snappy sound and rubbery smell of the tourniquet are anathema to me. (That's a pretty good word, no?)
3. New tourniquet is way too tight. My forearm immediately turns white, as does my face. (Unfortunately, my teeth do not.) Intern lights up with glee as my veins bulge with blood. She employs an alcohol swab, the smell of which brings me back to that wretched hospital memory. I don't like where this is going.
4. Just as intern is about to insert the needle, nurse calmly says, “Wait. That’s a tendon, not a vein.” This observation is disconcerting.
5. I start to lose my faculties. When I blink, the room remains dark for a few seconds, despite my eyes being open. People start talking in scary, slow-motion voices.
6. Intern finally finds her vein. She says, “This may prick a little.” No sh!t, intern.
7. Needle finally enters vein; it pricks a lot. Blood starts exiting my body fast. The intern is overwhelmed. “Wow, it’s really coming out!” I make the mistake of looking down at the situation. “Why is my blood so dark… and viscous?” I get dizzy. My heavy head feels like it’s going to topple over.
8. I begin to bid farewell to consciousness.

At this point, the nurse says, “You don’t look well. Are you ok?” Not realizing we were playing everyone’s favorite Snappy Answers To Stupid Questions, I reply with a terse, “Give me water. I lie down.” Another blown opportunity.

You don’t look well. Are you ok?

1. I’m just fine. Kudos to your intern for doing such a bang-up job. It's like she's been doing this her whole life.
2. Yes, but could you make the rubber band a little tighter? I can still move my fingers.
3. Of course. I normally get this pale and dizzy when I’m ok. Take as much blood and time as you need.
4. Remember that tendon the intern mistook for a vein? You really got his hopes up and now he feels neglected. Could you stab him with something sharp?
5. ……………..……………..……………..……………..……………..……………..……………..……………..……………..……………..……………..……………..……..……..……..……..……..……..……..……..….