Today went really well.
Got up to the phlebotomy suite at LGI at about twenty to eleven, and was immediately in the chair since there was no queue. The first phlebotomist looked me over a few times, noted all the bruises, and picked out two or three veins that she thought might work. First, the deep vein on the left arm (“It’s so tiny, but it’s there!”) then the deep vein on the radial side of the right arm (Which was so deep that I didn’t even know it existed), and possibly one of the “So pretty!” surface veins. Phlebotomists always coo over the glowy blue veins in my arms and chest. They are literally so bright that I was once told off by a supply teacher at school for having scribbled on myself in blue highlighter (Never mind the already heinous sin of having rolled up my sleeves on a warm autumn afternoon), and are completely useless for blood draw, since they’re collapsy and soft. She even had a look at the collapsed veins down the centre of my right elbow, which just have no blood in them at all and are thus dark purple, more for her own edification than for any chance of getting blood from them.
So she called in her superior, without even touching a needle to me, and had a good old complain about whatever cackhanded twat had tried to use 21g needles, when a 23 would be more than big enough. She also got a look of horror when I said that the last time I’d been to the LGI to get blood taken, I’d ended up with needles in my femoral artery. She reassured me that “Only the doctors are allowed to go that far off-piste, we’ll just try the arms then give up”.
Her superior arrived, and the blood draw took about three seconds. She picked one of the surface veins in my right elbow, then gently threaded the needle in, narrating “Just under the skin, you’ll probably only feel a single pop, rather than two…” as she went, and then the blood flowed out neatly in one long tap, filling all three vials. She got the needle back out, taped a piece of cotton wool over the puncture, and was done. No fuss, no faffing, no half-arsing about with the wrong kind of needle.
I was free to go, with the results being sent back to my GP.
I may as well mention now that I really like the phlebotomy suite – It’s in one of the older parts of the hospital, built in 1940, and it looks the part. It’s like a set from Carry On Phlebotomy, with tiny wards and sash windows and endlass narrow corridors. It’s also, apparently, due to be sold off, which makes me incredibly sad, along with the original LGI building (1863) and chunks of SC (1904, former contagious disease centre, Where the pain clinic is). I’m not surprised, since getting the old buildings up to modern standards would cost a fortune, and the part of me that cares about accessibility and ease of maintaining hygiene really likes wide corridors, short transfer pathways and double-glazing. I’m just a little wistful, since the hospital is kind of my second home, and a little worried, since moving services from buildings in the city centre, to either share facilities with other services or to take them out to a cheaper plot that’s further away from the transport hub could cause its own problems. I may start taking photographs of the buildings and wards as I go, to have a record of what healthcare actually looks like right now, as well as what the experience is like.
Though living in a flat in the top of that gorgeous Art-Deco inner ear suite would be bliss.