A Gushing Mess

I have a rare talent for being an exceptional patient. By exceptional, I do not mean a co-operative and easy going patient. I mean one of the people that things happen to that do not (or rarely) happen to everyone else.

Today, I had my finger pricked to test for sugar. Simple right? People do that every day. Poor diabetics - my heart goes out to you - do that multiple times a day.

So after waiting and waiting and waiting, I had my finger pricked.

The nurse hit Old Faithful. Blood spewed like a fountain from the tiny prick. Blood got all over the counter. All over the nurse. All over me. From a finger prick.

The nurse performed a mini-tourniquet. "I have never, ever had that happen before," she exclaimed. Of course she hasn't. I am just talented like that.

Several hours after I left the doctor's office, I removed the band-aid from my swollen finger (since she had to wrap it so tightly) to find that it was still bleeding. The fountain had stopped, but it was a small drip, drip, drip.

Before I left the doctor, the nurse took me by the arm gently. "Don't cut yourself."

Well, I will definitely try not to.

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