Vein Hunter

I'm a vein hunter. No, not an assassin of those with Narcissistic tendencies, but instead a pursuer of veins. My time in A+E has turned me into some sort of sadistic predator. My chosen weapon is a venepuncture needle. I stalk, like a cheetah on the savannah, just waiting for the chance to pounce. Every patient is a potential victim, but each with their own particular characteristics. A young man with magnificent engorged vessels entwining his arms - it would be almost too easy to swipe two bottles. Or you’d think so, until he begins to whimper in desperation, "I don't like needles", but it's too late I think, as the blood begins to flow and I reassure him; "almost done". A middle-aged man with similarly bulging veins, barely even flinches as my weapon penetrates his flesh with the greatest of ease. But these examples are like feeding meat to a crocodile, it is too easy, where is the fun, the challenge, the adventure?"

Go and bleed the lady in 9" my heart flickers, slightly nervous knowing that the 86 year old's veins are likely to be buried deep. This is more like it, I think to myself as I cleanse my hands in the ritualistic sacrifice of bacteria. I assemble my weapon and approach, pausing briefly to introduce myself, a mere interruption to what lies ahead. I strap on my tourniquet and begin to look for a potential victim. Like rabbits hidden in a burrow there is nothing, not even the scent of prey. I ask the patient to squeeze her hand while I gently feel my way around. Still nothing. Am I to fail at the first hurdle? I retrace my steps, carefully examining for the hint of blood streaming through a vein, hidden deep. YESSS! What's that, invisible to the eye and barely palpable, the mere hint of a vein? My fingers tell me its exact position and I load the needle. It is time.

Majestically, I recheck the vein, I panic as momentarily it's gone, but no, there it is. Oblivious to the world around me, I almost fail to hear the elderly lady announce "the district nurses always have trouble, they can never find any blood" - this just encourages me! I get into position, needle poised, "sharp scratch" I announce as I ease forward through the skin. With practice you can feel the needle puncture the vein, you think it's there. You ease back the syringe plunger and without delay a gush of red pours into the tube. You've hit the jackpot, first time too, perfect - but it’s not over yet. You've got to change the tubes, keep the needle perfectly positioned and finally, withdraw the needle. All in all a triumph, a perfect hit, another victim.

It's become a game, no longer challenged by the simplest of veins, only the difficult ones give the same satisfaction, the same feeling of achievement, the same buzz. I'm a vein hunter!