04 Dec / Christmas party tomorrow
and you’re not invited unless you already work with me in which case you know all about it already so may as well stop reading.
I have a new outfit (of course) and a good attitude (which may last) and a hearty appetite (as always) and nowhere else to be. I also have a ride home at seven-ish maybe so I can stay on late and par-tee.
I may even splash out a little and redeem my free drink voucher on, ooh I don’t know, a Coke Zero maybe? Or I’ll stay on the wagon on top of the wagon and have a tonic water which is my fancy I’m-at-a-bar-and-I-can’t-drink drink.
But first I have to commit a sacrifice. A blood sacrifice.
En route to the office tomorrow I have to stop off in a seedy part of town and walk into an office I’ve never been to before, roll up my sleeve, proffer my arm, and have at least two tubes of blood drained out.
Not quite as dramatic as when I wander down the road to the blood drive and they take almost a pint, but close enough.
I’m not that bothered by needles and blood (obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have mentioned blood drive in the above sentence) but there are still the occasional thoughts rattling around about how I possibly shouldn’t let too much of it go. Even for the bonus weight-loss.
The good thing about dropping by the blood-test lab rather than my doctor’s office is that they’re professionals at doing this. They know how to aim and how to hold their hands steady. They can whip out the little plasters while pulling out the needle, securing the rubber caps on the test tubes, wiping the stick site and teaching you how to apply pressure with a cotton wool ball.
My doctor’s hands aren’t that shaky, but she does sometimes forget there’s a patient in the room. Once, she was talking aloud while trying to work out how many vials of blood she needed her medical assistant to draw, and exclaimed ‘Gosh, we’re going to have to use the biggest needle.’
My eldest brother would always faint at the sight of blood (his own, not others) so although I don’t share the same traits I am aware of what they can elicit in others. Enough to laugh in astonishment.
Still, that’s not as bad as the time I was complaining of stomach pains and mentioned that my mother died of stomach cancer. ‘It would be awful to have cancer at your age,’ she exclaimed while trying to print out a referral on her computer.
And this is why we have alternative medicine. Or not-medicine as it’s more accurately known.
While I’m having my veins pierced with large hollow needles, you can relax and have a lovely read through…It’s Raining Books and Long and Short Reviews. They’re not up there yet, but they will be shortly so check back in later and have a nice catch up.