'Beautiful veins'

So I went to donate platelets yesterday morning (if you're wondering why, pls backtrack to my first post) and while I still am not sure what my platelets will do for young Liam (I seriously love that name!) it was quite an experience. It started out as a quiet morning in MSKCC filling out forms. There was a older lady and older man (sitting separately) in the waiting room with me. The nurses were super nice and after I filled out the paperwork I pulled out le iPod and grabbed a Domino magazine to kill time. They called me in and commenced with the onslaught of questions they ask before donating blood ie., have I paid or been paid for for sex? Of course I said yes (kidding). There was a supervising doctor also in the room as the woman who I was speaking to was in training. The door was left open a crack and we could audibly hear the older lady in the next room talking to the doctor about her IBS problem and recent colonoscopy. Apparently the older lady was hard of hearing and had a tendency to really project her voice whenever she spoke. The trainee and I exchanged a giggle about the personal info being openly broadcasted. Once we were through I went into the donor room and of course, of course, of course they placed me right next to the older lady (heretofore known as 'ol'). The room is an open space with a 10 or so recliner-esque chairs hooked up to machines staffed by a handful of nurses who circulate and monitor the donors. For the second time that morning, I was complimented on the size of my veins (you know what they say about people with big veins...) and promptly poked with the needle. The ol was unfortunately not so lucky. She had next to no visible veins and on top of that was anxiety prone so as the nurses searched both her arms I could feel the anxiety rise in our corner of the room. Turns out she was having blood drawn for a knee replacement surgery she was having next week and kept asking the nurses in a serious NY accent, 'what's gonna happen with THE SURGERY,' 'will i still be able to have THE SURGERY?,' 'will you call my doctor and tell him about this for THE SURGERY?' There were approximately 4 nurses that hovered around her, each asking the other to double check while fielding the ol's questions. One determined nurse found a vein and while the ol squirmed a bit at every touch they finally poked her and blood started flowing. But not fast enough. 'You'll be here for awhile ma'am,' they said. 'Oh gawd, I always have this problem when they take the blood from me. They can neva finda vein. Why is that? Is this somethin' I'm bawn with?' The assault of shouted questions visibly took their toll on the batallion of nurses. Then the blood stopped flowing into the bag. "What happened? Am I going to have to be poked again? Why is this so difficult? I'm cold, maybe it's because I just spent 5 months in Flaaarida? Do you think it's because I spent 5 months in Flaaarida?' The nurses removed the needle and frantically searched for another vein. They tried other machines. Nothing worked. Meanwhile, my anxiety level was rising as all this was going on around me, my machine started beeping as I had forgotten to squeeze every so often. My nurse came over and said, 'but you were doing so well.' I focused on my machine and got to squeezing. 'You mean after all this I can't get my own blood? Is the blood in the bank safe? I want my own blood. Will I be able to have THE SURGERY?' Let me say that this ol tried to be as nice as possible, just bc she was speaking loudly doesn't mean she was yelling or angry. It was the anxiety mixed with the shouting that made it all dramatic. In the end she apologized to the nurses for being a 'bad patient' and admitted to being a 'coward.' The nurses asked if she had kids or came with anyone. She said no and no. After the ol left my main nurse came over to me and announced that she now officially had a headache after all the commotion. I said that the ol was quite a trip. Then the nurse and I chatted about her daughters and her 'unmotivated' boyfriend of 2 months for a bit before she told me to look for jobs on the MSKCC website so that one day we could have lunch. I thanked her for her help and was thankful that I was born with 'beautiful veins' and went on my merry way.