I'm generally extremely satisfied with the clinic I use. My doctor's weird, but pleasant and never judgmental. The receptionist is a dear. Any lab work I've ever needed has been done promptly. I've never had to wait longer than five minutes from my appointment time; in fact, if I show up a few minutes early, I get in a few minutes early.
But the nurse downstairs who draws blood is a demon.
Needles don't scare me, never have, and I'm incredibly complacent when it comes to any medical procedure. But every time I've had to had blood drawn, I've cringed at the sight of her.
She's an elderly, bitter-looking woman who shakes as though with palsy. She always ignores me when I insist that she draw blood from my right arm, not my left, and not from the crook of either elbow because I have piddly thin little veins and there is no blood to be had. Blood MUST be drawn from a big-ass vein running along the inside of my forearm, close to my elbow, or there will be no blood for you. Period. I know it's unorthodox, my apparently my DNA doesn't give a damn about normalcy.
So why, OH WHY, does she insist on jabbing me with that needle and wriggling it to and fro like a dog worries a bone? There is no blood there. No. Nope. Not there either. Not even if you dig rrrreeeaaaal deep. She always concedes and draws blood from the big vein in my forearm with a scowl as though I willed my body to grow thin veins just to spite her.
If it weren't for her, this would be the perfect clinic.