Getting needled

I had my annual health check-up today.  I seem to be quite fine.  I don't have high blood pressure. Actually the doctor said, "You know that thing doctors tell you about not eating too much salt because it's bad for your blood pressure?  Well, that doesn't apply to you.  In fact, you probably should eat more salt.  Do you faint much?"

I explained that I do faint rather easily, but only in medical-related situations, such as blood-taking.

Later on I needed to have some blood taken.  I let the nurse know that I'm a fainter.  Normally that gets me a little lie-down or at the very least a glass of water on stand-by.

"Sit down over there," he snarled.  "Don't faint.  I got no time for you fainters."

"OK. If you say so," I said, meekly.  I'm a fainter, but I'm also in awe of authority figures.

"Where ya from?" he asked.  I told him England, and he went into one of those routines that some Americans like to do when they meet a European.  "Ha!  I feel sorry for you people, coming over here from those Third World countries..."  And a whole thing about how we have no utilities and hardly ever get to see a doctor and when we do it's in a tent.  Ha ha ha, yes, very droll.  Meanwhile he was wrapping a strap around my arm.  "Make a fist," he said.  "With pleasure!" I thought, but before I got to punch him on the nose, dammit, he'd stuck a needle in my arm.

He continued needling me, both literally and metaphorically, for a couple more minutes.  Then suddenly it was all over.  "There ya go," he said, "You're a survivor.  Now get outta here and have a great day."

And you know what?  I didn't feel like fainting at all.  Not even a little bit wobbly. Oooh, he got me good and proper.