Today was one of those mornings that just didn’t go to plan. I had to go for blood tests, which in itself isn’t a big deal, but the logistics have become frustrating. We can no longer just pop to the GP five minutes away or even the hospital nearby. Instead, we have to trek to the other side of town—a 15- to 20-minute drive each way.
That would have been fine, except that, like an absolute berk, I completely forgot my blood form. The moment we pulled up outside the clinic, my stomach sank. I felt sick and angry at myself, especially knowing how much of an inconvenience I’d caused my husband. He had to rearrange his work schedule to drive me, as I can’t drive at the moment—stronger medication has turned me into a bit of a zombie (though at least the pain in my face has eased).
Cue a frantic dash home, this time with my husband channeling The Stig behind the wheel. By the time we got back, I was 15 minutes late, flustered, and fully expecting to be turned away.
Thankfully, the phlebotomist was an absolute gem. She was warm, chatty, and accepted my apology without hesitation. After a morning of stress, her kindness was exactly what I needed.
Lesson learned: next time, double-check the paperwork before leaving the house!
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