#phlebotomy

[cuties-in-codices]

bloodletting

illustration from the medical-astrological "schürstab codex", nuremberg, c. 1472

source: Zurich, Zentralbibl., Ms. C 54, fol. 40r

[phleb0tomist]

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[oldinterneticons]

I'm not a vampire, I'm a phlebotomist

[chronic-melon]

I did labs and radiology today. I am stumbling and dizzy and my joints do in fact ache today. But today my providers were kind to me.

I never know what to expect when I go to get a procedure done or get checked out in the ER. I have had uncomfortable to traumatic experiences especially with lab work and iv placement.

People don’t understand that while I might seem like a regular adult who can handle myself just fine, I also have fibromyalgia which makes everything so much more painful. You don’t have to squeeze my arm to death to palpate a vein. I can feel my veins just fine with light pressure. It’s not hard.

The lab nurse today did something no one has ever done when taking my labs. She pulled my t-shirt sleeve down so when she tied the band around my arm, it didn’t pull my skin. I almost cried. I’ve never been so grateful to a nurse before, and what she did was so simple.

My radiology intake was okay, but the rad tech was seriously amazing. She knew exactly what she was doing and was patient with me, acknowledging my pain and making notes in my chart about it. I was blessed today.

And not every day is like that. And I just need nurses to know, because usually it is unfortunately in my case, that it doesn’t hurt to be gentle or take your time. And it’s okay to joke and smile with the patient. We need that.

I know how much nurses are mistreated, including by patients. But I am the most grateful and graceful patient in all cases, even in cases when I’m being tortured. And dirty looks and sarcastic remarks really don’t help my health journey.

I’m grateful for my people today. I felt safe today.

[cainvstheworld]

The Phlebotomist by Cain Birch

This is a persona poem from the perspective of my phlebotomist (person who draws my blood). It's a bit different than what I normally post on here, but I wrote it for my creative writing class and liked how it turned out.

[Text ID: The Phlebotomist by Cain Birch. The youngest tremble more than the graying, the grayed. Some of the children beg, barter with their parents, howl at the sun as I borrow their blood with a slender needle, but I offer every flavor of lollipop, so their pain is not fruitless. My heart breaks most for the ones whose fathers extract crumpled doctor’s orders from their jangling pockets, whose mothers offer tight smiles as their child squeezes their eyes shut, stilling, accustomed to the burn of the needle. I call out girls’ names into the waiting room and choppy-haired boys follow me into the sterile room, let me slide silver into the tender crooks of their elbows, measuring the hormones in their budding bodies. I call out a man’s name, and a woman with a five o’clock shadow coating her cheeks holds her arm ramrod straight for me. I don’t know how to ask her  what she’d like to be called, whether the “Samuel” in her chart should spell “Samantha” instead, perhaps “Iris” or “Rose.” Instead, I make small talk about the prices of gas, of chicken. I don’t tell her that the fried chicken my husband brings home grows cold by the time I arrive, that I do not turn on the heat in my hatchback even though my car’s engine sputters into the frigid night as I turn the key. I don’t tell her that I chew the tough meat without the microwave’s aid, so my husband’s breath, his still body is molten by comparison when I slide into the sheets next to him, drawing warmth into my bones, pretending the fire between us is more than a fading flicker. He wakes me up before dawn, before leaving to fill in the northeast's endless potholes, fills me up for a few minutes, catches his breath as he slides on his belt, his dirt-caked boots, kisses me with a closed mouth. I lay in the nest of blankets, let my mind slither off to hopeful gardens. In a few weeks, I will call a child’s name for the last time, his ailments healing, his parents glowing with quiet optimism. In a few months, I’ll call a woman’s name, Heather, and she’ll stick out her arm, ramrod straight, beaming. I won’t know what to say, but I’ll smile back at her. /End ID]

[chronicillnesshumor]

[despairtwins]

Bowls like this one were used to catch the blood released by bleeding. The appearance of blood was a useful diagnostic tool for physicians, who examined it for clues about the body's internal state. This large bowl was capable of holding a great deal of blood, but its maker encouraged moderation by stamping "BLEED ME LIGHT" in the basin. (x)

[analog-memories]

I was just testing out different textures and ended up just making a little animation of drawing blood on a fractious cat.

[yikes-ajax]

My mom is studying to become a phlebotomist and I'm so proud of her for that but I CANNOT handle an arm in the drying rack

[t4transsexual]

how i feel at work getting misgendered by my patients (theyre not being transphobic im just pretty)

[phleb0tomist]

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[oldinterneticons]

Pfabulous Phlebotomist

[neherandunasflor]

Vampires familiars are actually phlebotomists who take extra blood to feed to the vampires they work for

[owlinranger]

My most popular video back when Tiktok was free 😅

[chronicillnesshumor]

My phlebotomist is a Stormtrooper. She misses every vein she aims for.

[tromboneralert]

Something that lowkey drives me insane is that my state does not legally require any prior experience or training to become a phlebotomist. It's fucked up. There is SO. FUCKING. MUCH. that you need to know going in. There is so much that you cannot possibly learn it all on the job without fucking up a lot of things first.

I took a standard ass training course before I even looked for phleb jobs, and then I showed up for the job and only need organization-specific training.

I should not have to teach a new phleb what blood cultures are. Nor what a UA is. Nor what fucking TB is!!!!!! Nor the rule that you get two (2) pokes and if you don't get it you need to pass it off to someone else. This is shit you should already know when you come to the job. We stick needles into people yet the state allows that you learn it all on the job. That is just so fucked up to me.

I feel like I have to teach kindergarten to an adult because they didn't learn anything prior to applying for the job, and now I have the added stress of babysitting someone to make sure they don't fuck up.

And the person i am specifically complaining about. Dude. I have taught her and showed her things SO MANY times now, and it just doesn't seem to stick in her brain, and she refuses to write anything down to help her future self. To put it harshly, she's a fucking idiot and she's my problem, because the state allowed her to start the job without any prior training, and because she personally chose to skip taking a training course like everyone else before starting the job.

This is not a problem you have with people who take a training course. They learn everything they need and are able to identify the areas where they are lacking before they start the job. Not this bitch though. Nope. Poking people 4 fucking times, not even communicating that to me, and sending the patient away without letting me try.

Oh and she's also just generally absolute shit at communicating. Twice now we have run out of supplies while I was away because she didn't communicate it in any of the many ways I have shown her.