Today I got up filled with worry. I have to go get a blood test, routine stuff, but this is always a bit of an ordeal for me. I am what they call 'a difficult poke' ... I imagine that could be a compliment or an insult in various circles. So I go in knowing that I'm going to be jabbed several times. Occasionally when the moon aligns with mars they get it first time.
The worry, though, isn't about the poke. or pokes, that I am going to endure.
It's about the poker, the one wielding the needle.
The lab where I go has a variety of staff. Some take the frustration of getting me with ease and humour, some act as if my veins are acting under my direct command as they bob and weave to evade the needle. My experience of being physically poked isn't half the issue ... not even quarter. It's all about the attitude.
I have my favourites, of course, those I know who will take time and be thorough and will treat me as I'm a human being with veins rather than a vein surrounded by needless flesh and bone. It's not really possible to ask for a particular person as it's a pick a number, wait for turn, sit in a room, wait for who comes. When someone comes that I know is testy, I tense up. When someone comes that I know is kind, I relax. It's simple.
I was thinking about my worry this morning and wonder if that's how those who receive service always feel. Do staff in group homes, or in hospitals, or in shelters ... know that they, if they chose, could be the presence that relaxes, the person who is looked forward to, the person that someone wishes for? Do people think about how others anticipate them?
There is so much under our control.
It's about how we set our minds, about how we allow our attitudes to frame our interactions. I hope I get the woman, who I now realized chooses how she will be, who makes the right choice, over and over and over again.