Love Letter to my Phlebotomist

Originally published in Spoonie Press, June 2022

Dear Brittany,

We had never met until today, but I wanted to tell you this morning’s blood draw was the best I ever had. It was so good that I forgot about the visit until I saw the Band-Aid when I undressed for bed. 

I’m a connoisseur of blood draw labs, having gone every six weeks since I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease. That is a lot of blood. Thank God we can make more, amIright? The blood draw lab near the highway with the radiology wing is my all-time favorite, and it’s where I found you! Isn’t it nice they call it blood draw instead of phlebotomy? Of all the doctors and procedures in my routine that end in -omy and -ogy, finally– something with no guesswork! I suppose applicants for gastroenterologists would be few and far between if called “doctor of diseases of the stomach, intestine, colon, and rectum”. Or as I called my doctor one time: the lady who likes to look up my butt. She didn’t think it was funny, but when boiled down, that’s what she does. With a camera.

So why was I there, Brittany? Well, my videographer, I mean, doctor put me on some pretty hardcore medication to stop my body from trying to kill itself. Funny thing is, there’s a slight chance my medicine may try to kill me with things like cancer and liver disease, and you’re like an investigator collecting evidence of a crime before it happens. Isn’t that cool? 

But there is more that made today great. Before I got to you, the guy outside who checked me in said there was no wait. No wait? It felt like Christmas. Then the chipper woman inside neatly distributed me, and the other incoming patients, to either radiology or blood draw. Though she gave us each clear, simple instructions, we walked down the halls slow and confused as if we had never been inside a medical building before. Honestly, from the look of most of us, this was not our first rodeo.   

I’m a regular, but why aren’t you, Brittany? Is there a rotation? A schedule? I’m not a stalker, I swear. I want my visits to be like Cheers where everybody knows my name. (Which reminds me, I really miss drinking). We’re getting there– Mary at the desk (do you know Mary? Total sweetheart) no longer needs to see my ID, but occasionally mixes me up with a patient who has the same exact name. I said, “C’mon Mary, I thought we were friends!” Ha, no I didn’t. She’ll get it right next time, I’m sure. 

Finally, I was brought back to your room, or rather, three walls with a curtain that didn’t close all the way. You confirmed my birthday and address on the white vinyl bracelet with a bar code like I’m a product in the grocery store. Then you tied the rubber tourniquet around my bicep and pressed the crook of my elbow like testing the tenderness of a steak on the grill. The needle looked the thickness of a meat thermometer and I got scared, but your smile set me at ease. At least I think you smiled– it’s hard to tell behind the mask and face shield. Either way, I knew I was in good hands. There was hardly any jostling when you changed the three vacutainers sucking out my blood (I didn’t watch), and all of the sudden I was holding the cotton ball over the puncture while you covered it with a band-aid. I had reached temp. 

Then I was sad, Brittany. By the time my arm snaked back into my sleeve, you had moved on to the next patient patiently waiting with ten others. Would we see each other again? You were so flawless, it felt like you didn’t do anything at all! The small victory of having beat the rush didn’t cheer me up knowing when I return, I’ll probably meet a stranger phlebotomist. Oh, I’m sure they’re well trained and will do a good job, but I guarantee they’re no Brittany! 

Soon I’ll receive my lab results, which read like a foreign language, hopefully followed by a voice mail from the physician’s assistant that everything is normal (I don’t answer phone calls unless it’s my mom). And a few weeks after that, when I return, I’ll hope we meet again.  

Love, 

The patient trying really hard to smile at you with her eyes because of her mask.