THE PHLEBOTOMIST

Adrian Korpel

Art: health.state.mn.us

See this guy here lying on my couch? Looks peaceful, doesn't he? He came in around ten to give blood for his prostate operation.He's in his sixties, like most of them, all swagger with a scared little boy inside. Look at him now, in his stone-washed jeans and his purple shirt. Pathetic, isn't it, at his age? He's a professor you know. You should have been here when he came in. 

   "My name's Aubrey Stone," he says, "you   can call me Aubrey." 

He lies down on the couch and winks at me. 

   "Well, let's get started," he says," Do your worst and suck me dry." 

Great line, I think, really original. I ask him to roll up his sleeves, and notice that his veins look really poor. I take my syringe and stick the needle into the best one. Nothing. So I poke around a bit: Nothing. He has turned away his face, like they all do, but I see him wince. 

  "Does it hurt?," I say. 

  "Yes," he says, "you're hurting me." 

I decide to stick his hand instead, and this time I'm in luck, the syringe fills up nicely. I take 5 cc of blood, label it and send it to the lab. Then I measure his blood pressure, and find it's 145 over 102. 

   "It's a bit high," I say, "something must be making you nervous." 

   " Yes," he says, "you are." 

Blaming me again, I think. I give him a copy of Better Homes and Gardens, and tell him to look at the pictures to calm down. 

   "Those pictures may be too exciting," he says, "don't you have a Ranger Rick?" 

Smart Alec, I think, just wait till you see the big needle. When his count comes back from the lab, it's 42, so I can go ahead. I take his blood pressure again, and it's gone down to 140 over 90. 

   "That's better," I say. 

  "I'm not surprised," he says, "that magazine you gave me is full of pictures of flowers. It wouldn't excite a rabbit." 

He pauses a moment to think, like those professors do . 

   "Maybe I'm wrong," he says, "maybe rabbits eat flowers." 

I look at him, but he's serious. He must drive his wife crazy with that way of talking. 

   "Well, are you ready for the big one?," I say. 

   "Sure," he says in a kind of pinched voice. 

I put the elastic strap around his arm and take out the big needle. That's when he makes his mistake: he looks at the needle and faints -- 

So there we are. I suppose I'll better get a doctor. Look at him though, all peaceful in his stone-washed jeans. I bet you he's dreaming. Probably about rabbits eating flowers.