I can't keep it in

My medical tests were quite amusing in an odd sort of way. I had my usual discussion with the person who summoned me from the waiting room (“Actually, the surname isn’t Brady, but I suppose it’s near enough”. “Are you sure? I’m certain that’s what it says on your notes … oh no, you’re right.”). Then she took the blood sample, which wasn’t a bother as I’ve been a blood donor for more years than most us can remember, and I know the needle routine. I thought it was unusual the way she removed the needle before pressing on the vein, and when she went to get the sticking-plaster I pressed it firmer. The plaster went on, and she pointed me in the direction of the bed, told me to strip to the waist and lie down for the ECG. It was when I was lying there in the semi-nude that I noticed that the sticking plaster, although still stuck, wasn’t really stopping the flow of blood. My top-half clothes were unscathed, but my cut-offs, and the bed, and the nurse by this time as well, were liberally smeared. I reckon it was because my arm is used to pumping out a pint at a time, not a measly test-tube full. So it did. Of course, it could be because she didn’t press the vein shut before she removed the needle … Once I was mopped up and the flow staunched the ECG pads were applied and a recording taken, and I got dressed again.

A few heads turned and there were one or two gasps as I left through the waiting-room. I’m sure I’ll be able to remove the stains.