Eventually, part 2

I had a blood test last week.

I went along with a degree of dread. No-one likes blood tests much, I imagine, but during concentrated cancer treatment I developed a real loathing for the things. Which is a really good example of blaming the obvious thing, because needles weren’t really the problem. Collapsing veins, knackered and defeated by chemotherapy, were the reason that frustrated nurses needed to dig around in my arm in search of a place strong enough to hold for long enough to get the next lot of drugs in. I blamed the needles.

But, I went in, sat down, explained that my right arm is out of bounds because of the lack of lymph nodes, and winced as the tourniquet was yanked into place.

I always look away, and was still bracing myself for the digging to begin when I realised the nurse was taping the cotton wool on. Is that it? I asked. Oh yes, she said, you have lovely plump veins.

I could have kissed her. (I didn’t.)

Not only do I have lovely plump veins – do you hear me preening? –  but I have no bruising as a result of the blood test – another major change.

Perhaps I won’t bother to dread the next blood test, seeing it instead as an opportunity for my beautiful plump veins to demonstrate their excellence once again.