Life As A Human Pin Cushion

CONTENT WARNING: Needles

I am not a tricky stick. I started donating plasma when I was seventeen and continued twice a year until I got pregnant, so I’m not afraid of needles, either. 

When I am pregnant, they have to draw my blood for the gestational diabetes test. When I get there, there are two people. The woman tells me the young man is a nurse doing his residency and asks if I’m okay with him doing my blood draw. I say sure. Again, I’m not afraid of needles and not a tricky stick.

It goes terribly. He misses my vein on the left arm twice. I’m still calm, but now he’s freaking out a little and misses again.

Older Nurse: “Are you okay, Mrs. [My Name]?”

Me: “I’m doing fine.”

Older Nurse: “Do you want me to draw your blood, instead?”

Me: “No, I’m good. He can keep trying. Better on me than on someone who needs a needle urgently in the future.”

The young nurse tries again and misses again. Now he looks close to tears and way more emotional than me. The older nurse pulls him aside and talks him through a few deep breaths. They come back, and he tries to stick me again and misses twice.

Me: “Would you like to try my other arm?”

Older Nurse: “That’s probably a good idea.”

After five failed tries in my left arm, he preps my right.

Me: “Don’t worry. You’re doing great. You’ll get it this time.”

Older Nurse: “Keep calm and focus. The more emotional you are, the harder it will be.”

After three tries, he finally got the needle into my right arm and could draw blood. I left looking like an addict with holes in both arms. Hopefully, he didn’t get discouraged and is working as a nurse today with a steady hand.