There comes a time in every seasoned citizen’s life when he or she ends up with something requiring a hospital visit.

The first thing you must understand is that hospitals exist on a different time system than we are used to.

Normally you would think that the middle of the night is when you sleep, but this is not the case in the hospital. Just when you are at rest, falling into the best sleep short of a coma they will wake you to take a blood pressure reading. Restorative sleep is still within your grasp when the second wave hits you.

These people want to listen to your heart, your lungs and anything else that makes a noise. They always end with, "Did you have a bowel movement today?"

But finally the third wave comes in and all hopes of a good night’s sleep disappears, with the words "I’ve come to get your blood." Subconsciously you think "I hope you don’t want all of it."

Within this closed society of drainers you have grades ranging from novice to Dracula’s bride.

The novice is just that. She has had a few lessons in finding a vein, stabbing it with a needle that pins your elbow to the arm rest and 15 minutes later comments that you should relax so the blood can start flowing.

She might make all or some of the following comments: "Do you have any veins in your arm?" "Oops, I’ve never seen a vein spurt that high before," "Silly me, I have the wrong end of the needle" or "How do I shut this thing off?" If you look sharply, you can see the angel of death doubled over with laughter in the corner of the room. You will have a black-and-blue mark that will extend around your arm and from elbow to wrist.

If the blood lady comes as a teenage pair, it means that neither has a clue as to where the needle should be put so you will probably hear, "I think we are up too high, that looks like the carotid artery."

Between novice and the Bride of Dracula, there is a wide range of expertise. A recent novice graduate will have a cheerful disposition and a smile when she asks permission to draw your blood. She usually has a smock with pansies and blue bells on it. She has a cheerful disposition because she hasn’t heard all the names she is called. ("You’re like my third wife, she sucked all the blood out of me also" or "Don’t you work for the IRS?")

Then of course there is the "old pro." Age has nothing to do with it; she just has "seen and heard it all." She will come up to you and say "I need to draw some blood," but as she is saying this she has your arm flat out, a rubber gizmo on your upper arm and five vials of blood before she finishes with the words "hold this gauze in place." It all takes 45 seconds or less and you never get a black-and-blue mark. She leaves you stewing in your bed because you never got to tell her all the one-liners you have been saving up for just this moment. (I understand your firstborn was a leech?)

I have no idea why these people who are called phlebotomists are vilified this way _ I think it has to do with that dead-of-night visit. After they all leave, the hospital becomes so quiet you can hear your roommate gasping for breath and you start a mantra: "In-out, in-out, suck that oxygen through your mouth _ if you listen to what I say, you will live another day." It sure passes time when you are wide awake.

Speaking of leeches, I had a great idea during a time when I was getting blood drawn so often we were considering putting a faucet on my arm so they could draw down a pint or so without all that needle fumbling. My idea was a bunch of trained sterile leeches that could be mailed to the patient, applied by the patient and when the leech fell off they would be mailed back. No fuss, no travel, no needle. Everybody thought it was a great idea until we tried to figure out how to get the blood from the leeches. Nobody wanted the job of being the leech squeezer. (Forefinger, and thumb? Rolling pin? Hammer? And my favorite, steamroller.) (I bet the thought of that made your toast and coffee go down easy.)

What? I left something out? The Queen of Dracula? This marvelous creature has become the all-seeing eye in your health care, especially if you are taking a blood thinner such as Coumadin. I have met two of them and they were both named Theresa, which may or not be a title. But they are enthroned to monitor the clotting of your blood. Periodically they call you in, and using a stabber that would puncture the hide of a rhino, draw a sample of your blood and transfer it to a machine that, after a time of reverent reflection, spits out a number. The Queen evaluates your number and recommends changes in the number of pills you take.

There is no lying to the Queen because she knows all and sees all and if you ate a pound of kale and six long strings of black licorice she knows. She is as bad as your mother who knew what you were doing before you did it.

As time goes by, she will forgive you, because she has a great capacity for love.

Henry Geerken is a three-time NYSUT award-winner writing humorous articles addressing retiree and senior citizen concerns. He can be reached by e-mail at hgeerken@stny.rr.com.