I had to get my blood drawn last week and I’m a “hard stick.” A hard stick is a person who has terrible veins and it’s hard to draw blood out of them.

So, the first thing I say when I’m escorted to the blood-draw cubicle is, “I’m a hard stick and you probably will only be able to draw blood from the veins on my hand.”

Now this nurse believes she is better than all the rest who have gone before her. “Let me look at your arm anyway.”

I extend my arm.

“There’s a perfectly good one,” she says and she proceeds to stick me three times before giving up and blaming me for her failure. “You bent your arm, so I’m going to have to go to your hand. Why did you flinch?”

“Because you hurt me.”

“Well, that jerking made your arm bend. Most people don’t flinch.”

I find that hard to believe, but I don’t respond because she’s the one holding the needle.

She continues to excuse her failure. “You probably didn’t drink enough water this morning. Next time you come in, make sure you drink water. It helps to plump up your veins.”

Finally, after patting herself on the back for managing to get four tubes of blood from my uncooperative veins, I leave.

The end of the story is, I’ve been walking around with a purple bruise the size of a half-dollar on my arm where I received three unnecessary jabs from that puffed-up phlebotomist.