I have a spot on the inside of each elbow where the nerves are dead.
I can have blood tests drawn from those spots with any size needle, pain free.
It wasn’t always that way. It took about 20 years of regular blood tests and donating four gallons of my O Negative blood (before the drugs became so toxic) for it to happen, but it did.
Those blood takers, however, were not my first love.
Count Dracula was. Yes, I saw several actors portray the vampire before I read the book, but I was under the spell of vampires.
Then I discovered “Interview With the Vampire” by Anne Rice. I fell hard for Louis, way before Brad Pitt made my heart beat faster. Ms. Rice can keep her precious vampire LeStat, I’ll take my Louis.
Much more recently, I came under the spell of the vampires in Charlaine Harris’ Sookie Stackhouse vampire novels, the ones on which HBO’s “True Blood” is based. Personally I favor Vampire Bill over Eric.
I guess it’s rather attractive to think that all your ills will be healed if you just let your vampire of choice take that one big drink.
I think about these things. Become a vampire and be pain free, disease free. All you have to do is take the occasional drink of someone or something else’s blood.
The big downside? They don’t bite numb spots in the crook of your elbow (unless you ask them very nicely). They take the big artery in your neck. That hurts.
Most books and movies imply that by becoming a vampire and avoiding the sun, you immediately will become rich, well dressed and sophisticated, running in A-List circles and getting a fan base of your own.
Sadly, I think I am destined to let lab technicians sample my blood, and we aren’t likely to get any of the good things vampires seem to get.
These days, I’d probably kill any vampire stupid enough to try a sample of my blood, or at the very least get them high from the cocktail of medicine I’m on to keep the pain at bay.
What this means is in the vampire war in my head, the phlebotomists win.