Phlebotomy Phun

Poetry & Ramblings (Crimson Flow: Rap, Audio Included)

As many of you know, I worked as a phlebotomist for quite some time. I made some of the best memories with this career, meeting a lot of cool people and making a real difference in my local community. I’m still heavily involved in the medical field, creating training materials for teachers and facilities.

It’s a weird thing, to be good at stabbing people. It’s even stranger when they thank you for it, stating it as “the best experience” they’ve ever had. I just pushed a needle into your body and drew out a bit of your life liquid, what do you mean? The absurdity made me love it that much more.

Phlebotomy Phun is a poetry series dedicated to this career full of shenanigans and the people I was blessed to have met. Some were written while I worked at the hospital and each will tell a story, that’s for sure.

This first poem/rap is simply about the phlebotomy process. It was written recently. :)

Crimson Flow

Pump-pump hand sani
Rub-rub kills germs plenty
Small royal blue gloves
So they feel nice and snug

“Name and Birthday, if you don’t mind?”
“Princess Bubblegum, 4-20-69.”
Tourniquet, alcohol pad, and gauze
Ready to go so I don’t have to pause
Tighten and tuck the pink band
Checking the AC cuz I ain’t sticking your hand

Pal-pal-palpitate
While I palpate
For your fate
Ooooh, wait
 
Median Cubital Vein
That’s the one I shall drain
Relax, don’t strain
I’m gonna ease that nervous brain
By minimizing your fear and pain

Hub and needle, locked in
Finger and thumb, anchoring skin
Needle in position, don’t start tripping
I’mma certified phlebotomy technician

1-2-3, big stick!
“Felt more like a tiny prick.”
“What can I say? That’s my trick.”
Steady and slick, wrist flick
Hold on, we’ll make this quick

Popping tubes in place
Switching ‘em out with grace
Blue, Red, Yellow, and Green
Order of draw is what I mean

Crimson flow, you ignite my soul
Please don’t slow or make that vein blow
We got two more tubes to go
Before I can end this show, ya know?

Tubes filled cause ya girl is skilled
Tourniquet popping, bet you’re thrilled
Cover with gauze, needle extraction
Hold with pressure, necessary action
Say it with me
Patient satisfaction

Let’s finish this, my man 
By wrapping you with coban
The smile on your face says it all
“Thanks for a painless blood draw.”

And that’s how we stab and lab, y’all

Hope you enjoyed this! It was a ton of fun to write and record. If not, it’s currently the rave for my phlebotomy homies who believe I should go on hospital tours rapping this and that’s enough for me.

By the way, the name and birthday I used here, that’s what I put on some training material I made before I left the hospital, among other silliness. Yes, I have always been this ridiculous. And don’t worry, I created a boring decoy for management. Gotta stay one step ahead, so they don’t suck the fun out of things.

In case you were a bit confused by some of the terminology and phrases used, here’s a brief explanation:

• Hand sani: this is what we call hand sanitizer because we are children.

• AC: the bend of your arm.

• Palpate: pushing into the skin with a finger to locate a vein (feeling for veins).

• Median cubital vein: found in the middle of your AC, typically considered the most stable and preferred vein to stick.

• Anchoring: pulling the skin taut to prevent the vein from rolling.

• Order of draw: The order the tubes need to be collected in to prevent cross-contamination of additives.

I left out some small details for length sake and to maintain the crimson flow. I’d usually check the lab orders and lay tubes out with the tourniquet, alcohol pad, and gauze. And before the patient leaves, ya gotta label the tubes and write your initials and time drawn on there. You’ve gotten blood drawn before, you know how it goes.

Now, we’re going to take a minute to talk about the emotional aspects of being a phlebotomist. Once you are no longer nervous and feel confident in your abilities, that’s when a weird obsession for veins and blood emerges. Everywhere you go, you’ll see drainpipes on the arms of strangers and feel the urge to palpate them suckers. When you’re sticking someone and that blood starts rushing and gushing into the tube, your adrenaline soars.

I was not the only one. Coworkers consistently talked about spotting wild veins out in public, and the strange sense of power they felt while drawing blood. Successfully getting a hard stick is ten times more satisfying because you really had to fight for it. The challenges that came with phlebotomy ensured it was never a boring job. From the moment I picked up a needle, I wanted to be the best at it and that’s what I worked towards.

Now, I’m not trying to brag. I accidentally hurt people sometimes and made mistakes, but I remembered those mistakes and did my best to not make them again. It’s called caring and being self-aware. You’d be surprised by how many lacked those traits. Some of my coworkers were…not the easiest to deal with. After four months, they started giving me people to train because they saw through stats that I consistently had the lowest recollection rate with a high volume of sticks.

I quickly realized that how good others did also depended on how much they cared and how much they were willing to learn. Unfortunately, possessing both attributes was a rare occurrence. My first real success in training phlebotomists was my best friend, Sierra, who is practically my spiritual twin. I referred to her as my prodigy because every single trick and tip I taught her, she adopted it. She soaked up all the information I had to offer her and used it to her advantage. In my opinion, her skill eventually exceeded mine and I couldn’t have been prouder.

Just a warning, you’ll be hearing a lot about Sierra and other fellow coworkers who made working somewhere slightly depressing and morbid seem not so bad. Almost makes all the sputum and stool samples worth it, too. That’s a story (or poem) for a different time.

Oh, and for some reason, people online tend to think I’m a magnificent liar, so here’s proof that I didn’t suck and was pretty good at my job:

See! I’m not filling your head full of fiction! This is nonfiction, baby!

My manager was a very…unemotional lady if you couldn’t tell by her writing. And I did not “assist in maintaining phlebotomy inventory.” It was entirely my responsibility alone. Those turds. This is what leads to diss poems!

Speaking of playful diss poems, that will be the next theme of Phlebotomy Phun. Once you see the pictures I have to share, you’ll see why it’s a diss poem.

I’m sooo bad at promoting myself, but if it’s not too much trouble, could you do that thing where you restack to say “how cool” and all that jazz? If not, I might send the worst, most unprofessional phlebotomist I know to haunt you with a needle.😉 Do you really want to risk that?