Delaney and I met my dad outside of the diner for his birthday. We scooted into a booth and my dad asked the waitress for her name. She smiled and he told her that she had Nice Teeth. I couldn\u2019t stifle my laugh, so he asked, \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo\u2026 I just wouldn\u2019t have said that,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
*<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One week later I was at the doctor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd how much tobacco do you consume?\u201d she asked me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMaybe a cigarette or two once a month, it\u2019s super random, I haven\u2019t really had one in a while,\u201d I lied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCongrats on quitting,\u201d she maybe lied back to me. \u201cSomeone\u2019s going to come take your blood and do your urine sample and you\u2019ll be all set.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I sat back. I didn\u2019t mentally prepare myself to get my blood drawn, or to pee into a cup, but I had been dragging my feet about going to the doctor for years. I thought about whether or not I would watch the needle go in, if I could handle watching the needle go in. I felt intrigued by the prospect of being able to stomach that, even more intrigued by the idea of watching my blood spurt into a vial in a controlled environment. But then the door opened, and I didn\u2019t get to think any more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhich arm?\u201d the phlebotomist asked. I shrugged and said, \u201cI guess my left,\u201d presenting my arm to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My left arm has a huge vein, one I imagine a phlebotomist would cream their figs for. But my roommate, a recently graduated nursing student, told me that my right arm could still be good because your dominant arm often has a better vein.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI haven\u2019t really had my blood drawn in years, so I forget which one is better,\u201d I admitted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The phlebotomist widened her eyes when I showed her the difference. The left was, indeed, a no-brainer. She looked at me like I was crazy. I chuckled. She remained stoic. YOU\u2019RE about to take MY blood, dude. I was trying to play it cool but there could have been a little less rigidity to this process. I wanted to say it out loud, but I also wanted to not be a bitch. The needle went in and I did not watch. I stared into the wall the way you stare into the ceiling at the dentist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cStop leaning on this arm,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re leaning on the arm I\u2019m trying to push blood out of,\u201d she explained. I shifted my weight. I thought about the blood leaving my body. I wiggled my toes. I took deep breaths. I thought about the phlebotomist. Something tickled the back of my neck. A shiver ran deep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThis is the second to last vial,\u201d she said. I nodded and focused on the stone in my throat. I listened to the vial clink as she replaced it. \u201cAlmost there,\u201d she muttered. And then the needle came out. And so did:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDo they have you do this cuz you\u2019re the pro?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The silence between us was brief but deafening. I said that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat, draw blood all day?\u201d she exhaled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah\u2026\u201d I squeaked, \u201cmy roommate just graduated nursing school and told me they don\u2019t even get to practice doing it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNurses are the worst at drawing blood,\u201d she said, handing me the cup for my pee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
*<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDo they have you do this cuz you\u2019re the pro?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n It haunted me while I sat on the toilet. Where did that come from?<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDo they have you do this cuz you\u2019re the pro?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I winced in the elevator, alone. Why did I say that?<\/p>\n\n\n\n *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Two weeks later, I stand in the smoke shop staring at the Labubu Bongs. The Labubongs. Delaney directs the new guy towards the papers and tips we\u2019re running out of. I am staring at everything in the store, silently. The smoke shop is in a constant state of disarray; they\u2019re trying to sell a sleeve of water crackers? Like, a sleeve? In the fridge, on the bottom shelf, there\u2019s Indian food in takeout containers. \u201cIs this for sale?\u201d I want to say. But this time, I keep it in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n __________<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mikee Parangalan is a Midwest apologist and carpe diem evangelist, writing and creating in Chicago, Illinois. You can find her online @mkprngln and most anywhere else if you look hard enough. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"