From a fellow Shire Boy, Matt Corby has been slowing simmering in the background of the music industry until his massive hit “Brother” in the past 18 months. Now his new single, which I prefer and am now sold on. Such beautiful lyrics and a beautiful simple and strong piece of music. Thanks Matt.
So really, who loves a good needle? I for one, am not.
Yes plenty of other people dont like them either, but just highlighting my dislike. Bev did not help with this fear. I think after this episode I prefer this guy.
I was going for a regular check up at the doctors and he said I should get blood tests to see how my blood is going. Not like you ask people how their blood is going in everyday conversation without sounding like you have immersed yourself in vamp style media a tad too much. So it is strictly a GP related conversation, keep in mind for future social interactions. Or blogs, mention it in your blog, apparently.
Usually here in Australia, you visit your local blood place to get blood taken after you have seen the doctor. This GP said his nurse could take it for me, and I thought hey that is super convenient, sure. We walked out to the waiting room and to one of the two women behind the receptionist desk he asked, “Bev, could you please take this fellow’s blood?”
Bev looked around, as if he had been talking to another Bev in the empty white waiting room. Nope, she was the Bev he meant. She looked a little startled and then said, “Oh, yep OK” with a massive emphasis on the uncertainty of her willingness. Naturally as a patient I felt like Bev was quite the experienced blood taker.
She walked into a side room with my paper, then walked back out to the other receptionist and whispered (not so quietly obviously), “What tests does this say I need to take?”. The other woman explained quite casually which ones Bev was required to take. She then walked back into the room and called for me to come in. I naturally walked in with confidence to the awaiting couch.
She grabbed the strap that you put around your upper arm and it got tangled in her hands, then asked me to put it on. Since I do this everyday you see… (I do not). We worked through it together and it now sat firmly around my arm. “So, do you have veins?”. Do I have veins? She didnt even chuckle after this. I said I did. I am the type who looks away when having blood taken, just not really into it. Some are apparently. I looked away and waiting for the prick, but that didnt happen.
“Love, can you hold the three vials that I will fill with blood. Much easier if you hold them and pass them to me when I am ready to fill them.” So I held my own blood vials and once again braced for the prick. Yes, I know it doesnt really hurt, it is more the whole concept. I felt it and had the first vial ready for her to fill. 20 seconds past, and no vial was requested.
“Nope, no blood. We will try that again”. She then laughed and had said it in such a way that made her sound like this would be her second time in her life. I did forget to mention that this GP office also happened to be a liposuction hospital. Pretty sure she was more inclined to assist pumping fat out of people.
Bev did the process another time with no luck. Don’t worry Bev I probably look like I love getting needles so keep laughing.
On the third time we finally tapped into the supply. I passed each vial to her and we became a team. Patient and nurse. It was beautiful. I placed the cotton wool swab over the three puncture wounds and smiled. She said she had a fun dragon and pirate band aid for me. Great Bev, great! She placed it on me. Had she not ever seen the Wiggles before?
Insert picture of Band Aid packet with the Wiggles on it. Just for reference and any other “Bevs” out there. It is not a fun dragon but a fun dinosaur. Dorothy the Dinosaur to be exact.
I stood up and walked out of there, not caring about the fact I may have felt a little dizzy. Bev followed after me, but not to walk back to her reception desk. She looked around the corner and called for a young girl, “Darl, its your turn”.
I refused to make eye contact with the poor girl who entered, and stepped out and away from Bev.
The type of video for a cold winter’s day like today. Wish I was rugged up on the couch with a cuppa. But alas am working, but still good. Watching people walk past in their beanies and strollers and smiles. Sunny but cold, the best type of winter’s day.
I also may be playing this to drown out a really sad busker.
You ever feel so thin inside that your mind rattles the cage of your senses? Days can go by and it is like you want the days to blur, you want them to not stand up as individual days. Waiting for something, when you know its like waiting for a stone to grow into a big stone tree (there is not any evidence that supports the existence of stone trees, yet). That has been me recently. I kind of feel that pull of a ship going by or the sound of momentum in someone’s step, but wonder why I don’t choose to do so myself. Momentum based activities I mean moved house, setting up a new home and that is progression. But it is another space, another excuse.
Enough of that intense deepness. The term I believe is vagueblogging? I am just frustrated in myself, as so many people are about their ownselves. I can peel an orange, so thats pretty good.
I am amazed that someone like Bryce Courtney could get up at 6am, sit at his desk and then write for 12 hours straight (hopefully with a snack in that time!) and then he would do it all over again the next day. I would need a drill to fix myself to the table. Though I guess the pain of the screws would be another distraction. You can never win.
I have also realised I do enjoy coffee. A lot. To the point that I need one or three to go through the day. I write this without coffee.
Though the girl at the coffee shop always struggles to spell my name. She needs a coffee.
This is one of those songs that makes you want to stand up the front on stage and sway your hips and click your fingers yeah? And have someone so beautiful and wonderful to call yours so you can it to them.
Is it just me or did you hate mandarins as a kid? I used to hate them especially at school. Mums across the country and probably the world thought they were such a handy piece of fruit to add to a lunchbox. They were healthy, “yummy” and kids got to peel them which was a form of exercise, no? So why did I hate them? Because citric acid in the eye bloody hurts. Kids would sneak up on each other, reach around in front of your face with a mandarin peel and squeeze it. ACID!! Hilarious. Please speak up if this didn’t happen to you as a child. Maybe I was one of the only ones to experience this. Wait, did I get bullied at school?
I moved house this weekend. And I say house, because I mean HOUSE. Not an apartment block that you share with 40 other people, who you either ignore or smile awkwardly to. The even better news is, that I didn’t break anything when I moved. Not even a backpack, or a basket of scissors. Impressive and smooth. I can add to this actually. EVEN better than that is the move was across the street from my old place. How good is life. Had some awesome mates help carry everything across and now its the task of fitting all our stuff into an even larger space. It is missing a tree house though. Looking to see if this can be arranged.
