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Okay, so this isn’t a blood draw needle, but you get the idea.

I’m thinking of creating a version of the Who Said It game called “Medical Students or Burgeoning Serial Killers?” Here are some approximate quotes I’ve collected over the past several months.

  1. “I’ll just keep all of the blood vials in this basket here until I can figure out how to dispose of them.”
  2. “Skinning a human cadaver is harder than I expected.”
  3. “We should get some pig’s feet to practice on. It’s more like human flesh.”
  4. “He gets all the supplies by telling the clinic staff we’re planning to practice blood draws.”

Okay, since I don’t actually know any serial killers in training (I hope),  the game is pretty one-sided for now.

For a bit more context (lest you think perhaps a quick call to the FBI might be in order), this week marked our foray into cadaver dissection, and also the third so-called phlebotomy party.

The phlebotomy parties came about around Thanksgiving after a primary care conference where students were able to practice skills like suturing and blood draws. I wasn’t there, but from what I heard, many of the blood draws were not terribly successful.

I don’t know about my fellow students, but practical skills in medicine make me nervous. I know that I can memorize pages of information and answer multiple choice questions with reasonable accuracy, but none of that guarantees I will be any good at basic medical skills like lumbar punctures or taking blood pressures. The latter I can practice whenever, at least. Mostly of my family and friends have been subjected to me brandishing my stethoscope and sphygmomanometer. But the stuff involving needles? At best you might get to practice them on a dummy, which is really not going to prepare you for a terrified patient, angry at being used as a training tool.

Blood draws, at least, are fairly straightforward. So with a few donations from a local clinic, one of my small-group classmates with some phlebotomy training gathered together everything we might need and had six of us over for dinner and bloodletting. After all, if you’re going to mess up poking someone with a needle, it might as well be someone who is planning to stick you right back.

The first stick is, in a word, terrifying. There was this moment before I slid the needle in that I was thinking to myself, “I can’t do this. How could I ever think that I could do this?” Then bam, a minute later I was triumphantly holding a full vial of blood, my heart pounding in my chest and a general feeling of “Holy crap, I can’t believe I just did that.” Then I turned around and offered my own arm up for some first-time needle sticking.

Our first session was such a success that the host has had two more since. They are well-attended and it is a relief to watch everyone go through the same spectrum of emotions each time: terror, followed by determination, and then elation at their eventual success. We can do this! It’s for real.

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Uh…now what do we do with it?

A friend of mine pointed out that as physicians we probably won’t be taking a lot of blood. That is more the purview of nurses and techs, even if we will eventually learn the skill. Still, it is a relief just to know that I can handle the basics. For the first time I was able get past the literal barrier of the skin, into the parts of a living person that we generally never see. I don’t expect this will make me less terrified or apologetic when I finally do have to practice on a stranger for the first time. But at least now I don’t have to wonder if I am even capable.

And, even if it’s only the barest of comforts, at least I can say, “I’m new to this, but I’ve done it successfully a few times before.”

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