KTT and I had a lovely family trip to the hospital today (said no-one - ever!) as we both had to go for blood tests. We got called at the same time so after checking with the nurse that it was okay to leave him I went to my cubicle.
To me blood tests are a part of life and I accept the fact that the phlebotomists may be digging around for ages trying to find a suitable vein. The last time I had to have blood taken I had a bruise on my arm the size of the Isle of Man! Its always Doctors who have problems getting blood out of me.The sweet blood taking ladies always manage it first time and and with very little inflicted pain. The Doctors seem to try to burrow through to the other side of a limb to get it! Oddly enough, today it was very quick and I was able to go back to KTT to see how he was doing.
Erm. Not good. My big brave rocker dude 6ft 15 year old was chalk-like and faint and had lots of nursey people fussing around him, making him lie on the bed, drink some water and putting a fan on him. Thankfully after a few minutes he was sitting up and laughing at his predicament and ten minutes later he was drinking coffee and eating a Mars bar in the canteen. The little bugger! He put the fear of whatsit up me! Apparently he'd been asked to hold the three phials of blood whilst the last one was taken and he'd started feeling queasy.
And just to prove that I am a brave soldier this is proof of my Isle of Man sized blood test bruise from last time!