Friends & Family

Blood Draw



My son is accustomed to losing blood.

Every three to six months, at least, his doctor orders him into a laboratory where two vials’ worth are extracted from his tiny veins and sent in for testing. He is a medical anomaly; they still don’t know exactly what causes his symptoms.

He’s been doing this for more than three years. That’s three quarters of his life. That’s a lot of vials of blood.

At first, it was impossible. The veins were so small they had to use a special light to find them, and call in the best nurse at the best children’s hospital and even then they missed a few times.

Each time, I’ve held him. Held him down. Held him back. One hand on each wrist and my legs wrapped around his, every muscle tensed against me. He’s cried. I’ve cried. We’ve both felt bruised afterward. Continue reading “Blood Draw”