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Kingdon is getting content this season that’s so good it was mentioned in an article, EVERYONE at work is getting butterflies ✌🏼✌🏼✌🏼

#this is my version of getting cracked #phlebotomist #phlebotomy #melfrank #kingdon #Mel king #frank langdon

Let’s go!!!! 4 days till my phlebotomy certification course!

I will be studying my National Healthcare Association study guide for the end of program exam. I will also be working on tackling end of quarter assignments.

Because of all of this, there won’t be much art coming to my blog in the days to come. Also, my IPad is on its last leg. Eventually I will get a new one. But, until then, I will be taking a serious digital art break.

Thank you to everyone who likes to stop by and check out my blog. Every heart and reblog mean more than you might know! Behind every fan artists is an awesome fandom!

I love you all! 🥰 ❤️

Genuinely me when I used to work at the hospital, god I miss being the hospital vampire

#phlebotomy #phlebotomist #I miss my old job #dennis whitaker #the Pitt #fang rambles

It boggles the mind that I have to say this but it happens at least a couple of times a week: if you are a patient, you don't get to decide when I'm ready for the next patient. You walking out into the waiting room after I'm finished with you and saying anything similar to 'Next' makes me envision killing you with a hammer. Similarly, if you are a patient next in line? The patient before you is not a valid authority. You can't waltz into my office and have a seat because Some Guy said 'next' - that guy has no authority here.

#/medical office things #phlebotomist

good news! i start my new job monday. great professional opportunity and i will finally not have the time to be on here and get myself pissed off!

#trans man #transmasc #t4t #healthcare worker #trans healthcare #phlebotomist

"huh I wonder why we're losing blood"

suspiciously phlebotomist shaped creature in the corner of our room

#did osdd #crk fictive #burning spice fictive #burningspice🔥#phlebotomy #phlebotomist #blood draw people #undercover vampires

The Phlebotomist by Cain Birch

This is a persona poem from the perspective of my phlebotomist (person who draws my blood). It's a bit different than what I normally post on here, but I wrote it for my creative writing class and liked how it turned out.

[Text ID: The Phlebotomist by Cain Birch. The youngest tremble more than the graying, the grayed. Some of the children beg, barter with their parents, howl at the sun as I borrow their blood with a slender needle, but I offer every flavor of lollipop, so their pain is not fruitless. My heart breaks most for the ones whose fathers extract crumpled doctor’s orders from their jangling pockets, whose mothers offer tight smiles as their child squeezes their eyes shut, stilling, accustomed to the burn of the needle. I call out girls’ names into the waiting room and choppy-haired boys follow me into the sterile room, let me slide silver into the tender crooks of their elbows, measuring the hormones in their budding bodies. I call out a man’s name, and a woman with a five o’clock shadow coating her cheeks holds her arm ramrod straight for me. I don’t know how to ask her what she’d like to be called, whether the “Samuel” in her chart should spell “Samantha” instead, perhaps “Iris” or “Rose.” Instead, I make small talk about the prices of gas, of chicken. I don’t tell her that the fried chicken my husband brings home grows cold by the time I arrive, that I do not turn on the heat in my hatchback even though my car’s engine sputters into the frigid night as I turn the key. I don’t tell her that I chew the tough meat without the microwave’s aid, so my husband’s breath, his still body is molten by comparison when I slide into the sheets next to him, drawing warmth into my bones, pretending the fire between us is more than a fading flicker. He wakes me up before dawn, before leaving to fill in the northeast's endless potholes, fills me up for a few minutes, catches his breath as he slides on his belt, his dirt-caked boots, kisses me with a closed mouth. I lay in the nest of blankets, let my mind slither off to hopeful gardens. In a few weeks, I will call a child’s name for the last time, his ailments healing, his parents glowing with quiet optimism. In a few months, I’ll call a woman’s name, Heather, and she’ll stick out her arm, ramrod straight, beaming. I won’t know what to say, but I’ll smile back at her. /End ID]