Speaking of Ritualized Blood Letting...

The trip to Ridge Park was the usual sort of fun.

"Have you ever..." No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,no,nononono, nonononono.

"Do you suffer from..." No, no, no, no, no, no.

"Have you ever exchanged..." NO, no, no, no, once when I was a small boy in Marseilles, no, no, no, no.

Finger stick, pulse, blood pressure, waddle onto nice cushy chair, Betadine, Betadine, Betadine, hurtful Indian Rub with latex tourneq--, turni--, terni-- rubber band, pressure, gleaming large bore (the needle, not me), squeeze ball, The Young and the Flippin' Restless on the teevee, some chick in the chair beside me who loudly made calls to her boss at Penney's to say that she was right in the middle of giving blood? and might be, like, a couple of minutes? or, like, an hour late, you know? and like, she had to talk at full scream to her boyfriend who was standing there beside her looking like a real moron, see that the pheresis patients across the way were getting to watch Cast Away and didn't have a single blabbermouth anywhere around, quit squeezing, breathe sigh of relief when Blabbergrrl left, yank needle, hold gauze and give the fascist salute, clean Betadine, clamber out of the chair, rebutton shirt sleeves, go to canteen to look for fig Newtons AND THERE AIN'T NO DERNED FIG NEWTONS!!

Grr.

If I had the strength, I would have gone all Hulk on them, but I satisfied myself with some nice crackers with sour cream and chive filling. (Two packs, dadgummit.) Walk out and that stinking girl is STILL there, having her snack with her dimwit at the front desk and loudly chiming in whenever anybody said anything.

You know, same old same old.
posted by Terry at 2:30:00 PM