Vampire Needed

I've decided that the reason my liver is inadequate relates to an inefficient transportation system within my veins. I did not come to this alarming conclusion all on my own.
Rather, I did, but not entirely without provocation.
The provocation arrived in the person of a very kind nurse.
This nurse was presented with the daunting task of obtaining a blood sample from the arm of yours truly. Any time I must face a medical professional who has not yet drawn my blood, I feel compelled to open with a brief caveat. It goes like this, "Please be prepared for a challenge,as I have no discernible veins. You have three tries, and then you're done."
They always smile and nod in a patronizing way. It's very predictable.
This nice nurse lady first poked about at the center of my inner elbow with a finger. Apparently most people have a vein there. Oddly enough, I do not. She then ventured to the outer reaches of that area where she developed enough confidence to want to attempt to actually sink a needle there. It didn't work. She did not, however, remove the needle. Convinced that she was near, this fine lady began to twist and maneuver until hitting a rather sensitive nerve. I was nerved, she was un-nerved. I would rather have been her.
She decided that more caution may be in order, so we worked together at a tourniquet/flexing exercise designed to plump up my feeble lines. She dug in her bag for a tiny little baby-sized needle, which she called a butterfly. I think this was to make it sound harmless. Fortunately, this little poker had far less of a bite. It also was no more successful than the first go-round. I was thrilled with the lack of agonizing pain, and so was more inclined to feel optimistic.
Sweet nursing lady was having a bad day. She seemed to feel that this inability to drill sucessfully for blood, when blood ought to be so plentiful, was indicative of some shortcoming on her part. I was not overly worried about it, as this sort of thing has happened to me on more than one occasion. It's awfully fun.
So, the "third time is a charm," as they always say.
They are wrong. Why do they say things like that?
The third time involved another grown-up sized needle, and elusive veins. I called it quits, and the disappointed lady admitted defeat.
She told me that in 10 years of drawing blood, she had never failed. In fact, she had never ever come across veins that she couldn't...well...come across. I am a freak of nature.
You know what's funny? I cut myself shaving in the shower this morning, and bled like an amputee. I should have called the nurse.