Needles

The nurse was wearing a blue shirt with little bears on. This kind of comforted me.

That was until - during the eye exam - she started yelling at another nurse that she was busy enough without having to take on Dr.X's 10 o'clock (that would be me). I was told to go back to room 411.

About 15 minutes later she stormed in there announcing she was going to draw blood.

She stuck a needle in what I told her is my wrong arm.

She looked a bit puzzled. No blood (and that, I am sure, is the main purpose of drawing blood).

"Try my other arm" I told her "In this one I don't even have a pulse."

"You should have told me" she said matter-of-factly (is it really that common to have arm-with-no-pulse- patients or was she not paying attention??).

"I did but...." I stopped talking, considering it was better not to upset the person in possession of the needle. She pulled my sleeve up high and started beating my arm with two fingers. (Still, all I could think of was that the elasticity would give and that later one sleeve would be more baggy than the other.)

"I found one" she muttered, more to herself than to me. Apparently right next to my elbow was the second best spot to stick a needle.

No blood. "This never happens" she said, implying that it was somehow my fault.

"It should work in your hand". Now I started to panic. Had I fallen victim to a nurses betting pool (how many places can I stick a needle in a patient before she runs screaming out the door)?

Ouch this hurts. No blood.

"I'll go get the doctor" she said, already half way out the door.

Dr. X arrived. Five agonizing minutes and five blood samples, coming out of the side of my wrist, later I was dismissed. My hand, my wrist and my elbow where burning (a day later they would be blue and purple).

On my way out I realized she forgot to do the "pee in a cup" thing. For sure I wasn't going to come back after fasting another 12 hours so I asked a nurse what to do.

Nurse a-lot-of-needles-but-no-blood appeared out of nowhere.

"YOU" she shouted while pressing a cup in my hands "THERE" aiming at the nearest bathroom.

It wouldn't surprise me if they'll find some traces of fear in my urine.

Regretfully Yours.

“No excuse me no nothing?” snapped the woman sitting next to me on the PATH train.

I had just taken a seat between her and another curvaceous woman. Not being the thinnest of the pack myself, a needle couldn’t be put between us without anybody getting hurt. For a minute, I thought that my crime had been having the audacity of filling up the seat several other passengers had passed up on (the women’s demeanor had made it clear to think twice before invading the extra space she and her newspaper were taking up); but I soon found out it was a case of cultural indifference on my behalf.

“If you had said excuse me I would have moved” she argued. “I am not taking up more than a seat” I replied; not telling her what I really wanted to say: that back home tired train riders with sore feet do not apologize for taking up an empty seat and besides, riders back home out of courtesy give up the extra space they are using without being asked.

“Why didn’t you say excuse me and have it over with” disagreed my boyfriend who had to listen to my sorry story. “What is up with people here that they expect an “excuse me” for everything? It doesn’t change anything because they are going to do it anyway. “Excuse me can I go by” actually means “You have two seconds before I run you over”. Other people are so polite that it is getting on my nerves” I shot back “The other day I stepped on somebody’s foot and she said sorry. Now how pathetic is that!”

And than came the one thing I could not dispute: “Well you live here now and if “excuse me” is going to get you a seat on the train without getting into an argument you might as well deal with it.”

I probably sulked for a couple of hours over this, thwarted that he wasn’t on my side. After dinner, my sore feet long forgotten, I vowed to do the following: go on a diet and take up the local custom of saying excuse me every time one occupies a seat. Actually, the latter is probably going to be the easiest part; truly, how long can it take to say those two words?

So to do dear lady on the train: “Excuse me”. To make it up to you I will apologize twice next time I put my plump behind next to yours.