My best friends are all phlebotomists

The ladies at my local Quest Diagnostics laboratory now know me by name. And that name is Hun.

“Hey Hun, you’re back.”

“Hi Hun, how’s your day today?”

“Hi Hun, which arm this time?”

Each time I visit, they remember my referring RE, my insurance provider, and that the veins in my right arm are way better than the veins in my left arm. And I’ve learned a lot about them too.

Meg,* the older woman with thinning brown hair can get a needle in my vein with only one stick and have a tube full of blood ready to go to the lab people in about 5 seconds flat. All the while, I’m thinking about why Kraft Mac & Cheese powder is orange. I mean seriously, why don’t they just let it be white or a pale natural color and leave the food dye out. Who are they fooling with orange? And before I even get to thinking that all this food thinking has made me hungry, she’s slapping that cotton ball and tape on my arm. Yeah, Meg. Yeah.

Meg’s been married once. But that ended a while ago. And this bum she was dating recently moved right on into her house and stayed there even after she dumped him. Awkward. Last I heard, he was still there. Double awkward.

Then there’s Tameka.* She’s in room number 3, which is where we first totally hit it off during my glucose tolerance test. Recently, Tameka treated herself to some new pots and pans, and since then, her cooking has really transformed. Sauteed chicken, her fav, is so much more tender inside and crispy outside. I told her about this mustard chicken I like to cook every once in a while for the husband and I, and she wants the recipe. I think we’ll be pinterest friends. Tameka also really like Doritos. I know this because there’s always a snack-size bag sitting on her desk. Or maybe she hates Doritos and it’s the same bag that never gets eaten, in which case, we can’t be friends.

She was also very impressed by how quickly I could chug that special glucose drink. Because seriously, I took that thing down! Just saying.

And then there’s a late 40-something woman who’s name I don’t remember, so for now, let’s call her Nameless.* Nameless has a daughter in college and very comfy sneakers. And that’s all I can say about Nameless. She must work part time.

One of these months, I’m going to be able to stop seeing these ladies so often. At least I hope I’ll be able to stop seeing them so often. Not that they aren’t lovely ladies.

And when that month comes, I wonder if they’ll wonder about me. I wonder if they’ll ever ask each other in passing, “hey, where’s Hun these days?”

Though…probably…hopefully, they’ll know. That the reason I’m not there is because I’m on my way to holding a baby in my small-veined arms. And that I’m making mustard chicken for my new family.

*Names slightly changed to protect my favorite phlebotomists

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