Modern Blood Letting

   "I like my needles small and blunt!" she yells while waving Hercule Poirot in his face.

   Is she going to pound the poor lab technician with the 4 pound tome?

   One never knows. What she will do. Staring down a blood draw.

   She's already informed him, "Don't count it down for heaven's sake! I don't need to know when you are going to put that thing in me, and don't use a butterfly!" 

   "What is a butterfly?" I wonder to myself.
  
    He ignorantly asks, "Who's the author?"

    "Agatha Christie! Can't you see it right on the front of the book?" she demands.

   The tome does indeed sit about 4 inches from his eye balls, but a 12 year old with a book dagger she's thrusting to and fro, with fists clenched and eyes of fire, can be a bit distracting, if not intimidating.

   These blood draws, I abhor.

   This time around, we put a small dab of lidocaine on her arm. Yet in the chair, her mind is one focused pain processor; you would not have known she was numbed. Sheer panic, a vice-like grip, and eyes that could mash a rose bud to bits, flare from an upturned chin and less than stiff upper lips.

    For a brief moment, okay two, as I re-position my body to the other side of hers, I wonder if she will kick him in the shins. I really don't think she will bite. Would she?

    Ten herculean minutes later, the dreaded task is accomplished, and the poor technician is as flustered as I. Palatable is the blood pressure rise in the roughly 4' x 4' room.

    In rare form, she begins to instruct him on the care and keeping of his lab.

   "You need to keep horse bandages in stock, sparing people sticky tape on their arms." She commands. 

    "Wilco," I say. "At Christmas. It's cheap. Really cheap. Can be used for many things." I only want to move on and move out.

    The curtain is moved aside, and the guy in the blood letting stall next door, stares dumbfounded. Could that tiny bit of darling make all that noise?

   Yes, indeed. That was us, in our local lab tonight.

    After dinner she tells her father, "It went great! Best blood draw yet."

   I silently sip my glass of red wine. 

   But bingo! I realize the lab is open 24 hours. Next time, they can have a father daughter bonding experience.

   As for the bloody battle's results? We expect fabulous results - just not in the lab chair.