I Elsie Bear Cherub am defender of my house, road and universe no less. I’m knackered just thinking about all I prevail to defend. Last Thursday though instead of curling myself up on the sofa, I should’ve escorted Mama J to the Doctor’s surgery as she was brutally attacked by a Phlebotomist wielding not one, not two but three needles.
Mama J has to get her blood levels checked every so often (okay more often than she would like) to make sure her warfarin and thyroid levels are all fine and dandy. Last time she went it took four attempts to get her very awkward blood to start flowing and this time it took three.
Firstly the Phlebotomist (she’ll remain unnamed just in case other patients become afraid of needles just like people are getting frightened of clowns, with the non friendly clown saga that’s engulfed the world at the moment) sat Mama J down and joked that she’d had her first “funny” patient in first and once Mama J was done she was on the up. She could help write this blog for me getting laughs like that.
Secondly she proceeded to pull out a fine butterfly needle (ah this is getting technical now) as Mama J has such fine veins and asked if Mama J had had plenty to drink that morning. Vodka isn’t really a morning drink so Mama J answered that she’d had a glass of milk and not a Russian Bride cocktail! She then went in for the kill stabbing the back of Mama J’s hand. After a few minutes the blood just wasn’t flowing out. Oh dear! The Phlebotomist then started getting agitated and was apologising profusely as she was going to have to prick Mama J again, this time in her arm. As she couldn’t find anymore butterfly needles she pulled out a contraption that looked like it should’ve been in The Beamish Museum. It looked more like a plunger than a needle. Into Mama J’s arm it went and out of Mama J’s arm blood did NOT come.
The Phlebotomist was getting a sweat on now and Mama J (yes the one having the needles in her arms and hands) was gently telling her that everything will be okay, she just needle, sorry needed to breathe!
It was decided (by Mama J) that the waiting room full of patients cueing up to meet their blood loss maker could wait another minute so they could just give the back of Mama J’s hand another go. This time the plunger/needle went in and blood was delicately extracted in a slow and steady manner. Hooray this job was finally a good-un!
As Mama J left the surgery she could hear the Phlebotomist telling everyone that she’d had a bit of bother (that’s Mama J all right always causing bother) but things were back on track now.
When Mama J arrived home all cotton wooled and taped up I was so worried as to what had just happened. I jumped on her lap after her “trauma” as Granny described it. I sniffed at her hand and then looked into her eyes just to make sure she was okay. The Rembrandts theme song to Friends was ringing in my head. Next time Mama J, “I’ll Be There For You” and that is going to be in less than two weeks time, as Mama J’s warfarin dose was amended. Oh dear that poor Phlebotomist may need a day off that Thursday or Mama J better do lots of PE style star jumps to get her blood boiling up in her veins.
After telling Grandpa of her trauma (she’s milking this just slightly now. However Grandpa does have a mild phobia of needles and would’ve become more than a little faint if he were to have such a three needle event happen to him) Mama J was given another huge shock when she walked in to find Grandpa and I watching Star Trek. It shouldn’t have come as too much of a shocker as I really enjoyed the sci-fi film 2001: A Space Odyssey when Grandpa had it on over last year’s festive period. Yes, folks sci-fi is definitely my genre and not all the soap operas that Mama J subjects Grandpa and I to each week (saying that, I’ll get more treats at meal times from Grandpa’s plate, ah there’s method in my madness).
So Star Trek was brilliant as I felt such a bond with one of the characters that lit up my television screen. Spock! He has the same ears as mine. We are such kindred spirits, soul mates in another life form. He’s pure magic and I think I’m in love. Sorry Watson you can be my earth doggie boyfriend and Spock can be my one in space. Mama J is trying to get me an outfit just like his so we can look the same whilst we are Star Trekking across the universe. I also liked the Cling On’s, Mama J said that’s because I’m like the family’s shadow, especially when they are set to go out. I cling on to one of their legs for dear life. Anyway Grandpa and I will be fighting Mama J for the telly remote from 6.00pm each evening so we can enjoy watching our Star Trek and my lovely Mr Spock.
We all enjoyed Anne Robinson’s Britain programme last Thursday evening as it was all about the nation’s habits with their pets. As a very pampered pooch, I fully supported the lady featured methods with her many Dachshund dogs. I was slightly jealous as they got to go for treatments at a local beauty salon. I just sit on the dining room table, how is that fair? As I was in a huff by this point, Mama J had to explain to me that because I’m not always that great around other dogs that it might not be a very relaxing experience for all concerned if I was booked in for a spa day. Okay point made, its back to the dining table and family bath for me.
One other thing Anne thought was extremely amusing was how obsessed Britain was with getting their pets on social media. As a growing social media superstar thanks to my wonderful team (Mama J) and their encouragement (“sit there and give a Vogue pose Elsie”) I have to take umbrage at Anne’s humorous mocking of a cat that made live streams to its massive Facebook following. Ms Robinson you are the weakest link, goodbye!