Needles and veins.

We were in hospital today to do some tests and to place a peripheral venous catheter for the check-up tomorrow.

Abbe doesn't have the easiest veins to find which means that every time they try to put a needle into him is hell. Frankly. And not just for him. We were beat after they’d been tormenting him for well over an hour, desperately looking for a good enough vein.

Funny though, how you get used to these things. I’ll never forget when Abbe’s brother was a newborn and at the tender age of three days was to go through the routine blood test. They tried his hands and feet a couple of times before they decided to put the needle in his head. I was holding him and nearly fainted on the chair. My wife, who’s pretty cool about syringes and stuff, cried her eyes out. But now, after all that Abbe’s been through, we just tell the staff to go straight for the head, it usually works.

We’ve grown with the task, I suppose, rather than gone numb. I’m pretty sure we’ve grown. It wouldn’t do, would it? Crying and fainting all the time?