Samantha's never been a good bleeder, even as a baby. She's learned that the more the drinks the easier the draw. Now that she's 9, we don't have to argue about it--she equates more water with less pokes.
But today, Samantha wasn't a good bleeder. She drank a lot of water, but had expended most of it at camp. She tried to drink a lot until she felt too full to drink more.
I typically sit in the lobby of the lab while she goes back in the chair by herself. We've come to know our phlebotomist well. Samantha likes to do it by herself--it makes her feel grown up. While we were sitting in the lobby today, Samantha and the phlebotomist were giggling. They were laughing because the draw started out well and blood was flowing and the moment they mentioned it the flow stopped. It happened twice.
I'm so glad that it isn't a negative thing, these blood draws. And that Samantha can find humor in a somewhat sucky situation.
When she was a baby and I had to hold her down because she was screaming and squiggling during a heel stick. I never thought this would get any better, but it has. It has been at least two years since Samantha last cried at a draw. And now she takes it like a champ.
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In May, when our school had an open house, Samantha had her autobiography displayed on the the third-grade wall. It said: "My name is Samantha. I was born in Gilroy. I was born without a thyroid. My parents were so happy that I was their daughter . . ." Of course we are!
