I'm writing this completely inconsequential blog post solely because it's more amusing than all the personal crap I'm presently going through.
Have you ever had a very sudden memory of something that happened long ago, that just popped into your mind for no reason?
I was just lying (or is it laying?) in bed - looking at some mosquito bites on my arm when I suddenly had a flashback:
I'm barely twenty years old. I'm in a Los Angeles Free Clinic (they were abundant back then).
I won't disclose why I was there - except to say that I was getting "tested".
No need to come to dire conclusions. I was nearly innocent back then and pure as the wind driven snow......
.....of course, it doesn't snow in L.A. - but that's beside the point.
Anyway, I have to have a blood test.
An old lady comes into the room with a big needle.
She looks damn old to me - - she was probably over 50.
The first thing I notice (besides the big needle) is that she's wearing a name tag that says:
"Margaret - Volunteer"
The "volunteer" thing unnerves me a little bit - but not as much as the big needle.
Margaret tells me to roll up my sleeve, because she's going to take some blood.
As I'm rolling the sleeve, she suddenly confesses:
"I've never done this before."
This isn't the first time I heard that phrase, but usually I hear it from someone when we're in bed and smashed from too much liquor.
I never heard it from a medical volunteer. My apprehension escalates.
Before I have time to consider leaving, Margaret jabs the big needle into my arm as hard as she can and suddenly pulls it out, saying
"Oh my God - - I blew it!"
They are her exact words.
Blood is spurting from my ravaged arm like a geyser at Yellowstone.
I don't know who is more panic-stricken - Margaret or me, but the sight of my spurting blood averts my attention from Margaret's horrified face. I'm queasy and fighting hard to keep from passing out.
Another woman (who looks younger and more competent than Margaret) comes into the room and quickly bandages my arm.
When I finally recover enough to sufficiently sit upright again, I'm given a much-needed glass of water. Then the woman who bandaged my arm gets out another needle and draws blood from my other arm.
Much-shaken, and with a newly-found skepticism of all volunteers, I hurriedly leave the free clinic.....
......and vow never to return.
For many years afterward I had a great fear of big needles, the sight of blood, volunteers, and elderly ladies named Margaret.
That's the end of my flashback memory.
It's all true.
And in retrospect it's almost funny.
Jon (who else?)
