Written by Inchcock
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Sunday, 20 November 2011

image for The negative sides to having a blood test!

The Anticoagulation Clinic, due to increasing attendees, and the Government cut-backs, decided to send me to the Blood Testing Centre to have my Warfarin levels tested in future.

Shame really, because at the Clinic, they used to take a tiny drop of blood out of a finger end, and do the test, and get the results in about ten minutes maximum. And they gave an appointment time to attend.

Now I'll have to take a ticket and wait in the queue, to have a syringe of blood removed from an arm, then go home and wait in for the rest of the day, for the Test Centre to pass the blood to the Clinic, and them to test it and formulate the dosage required and when to return for my next test, then for them to inform the Test centre, then for the Test centre to ring me with the details.

This is the tale of the negatives I found on my first visit there:

1) On the way there
Walking to the hospital, I'd got about half way when down came the rain, and I was soaked in minutes!

2) The ticket machine
The queue ticket machine was not working when I arrived. After a while the water tablets took there toll, and I had to nip to the toilet.

When I returned, about 15 people who arrived after I did, sat contentedly with their newly issued tickets from the just mended machine!

3) Cursed at!
As the place filled up, two small kids occupied the seat next to me. I gave them a smile, and said Good Morning - and was told to go forth and multiply, although not in those exact words!

4) The spillage
When I was eventually summoned to cubicle 3, the nurse broke the needle as it went into my arm. A squirt of blood shot out, and I had to wait while they called a hygiene team member to clear it up, before she attacked the other arm!

5) The Lost Book
As I walked out of the building, I realised I'd left my Spike Milligan book on the chair, I returned to the waiting area, but could not find it!

6) Intending to Get the Bus Home
I joined the queue at the bus stop. Then realised I'd changed my coat, and not transferred the Bus-pass to the new one - and had no money with me for the fare!

What a gay day I thought! And trudged home.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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