Wyn Drabble says he is not at all brave when it comes to needles and he certainly cannot watch the blood removal procedure. Photo / Getty
"You know you're old if they have discontinued your blood type."
Phyllis Diller
I have just been phlebottomed. That's not a real word but I'm using it because I feel it's more fun than the correct version, phlebotomised.
I'm not suggesting that being phlebottomed is column-worthy stuff but I hopeyou'll agree that the word is a fun one so I hope you will be happy to let me play around with it for a little while.
The verb form with which I opened is, I feel, a particularly delicious variant. I can very easily imagine the rubbery lips of Rowan Atkinson creating comedy simply by saying the word.
For those unfamiliar with it, phlebotomy is the surgical opening or puncture of a vein in order to withdraw blood or to introduce a fluid to your bloodstream ("Bloodstream, I'd like you to meet…etc").
I'm not at all brave when it comes to needles and I certainly cannot watch the blood removal procedure. I think I tense up and whimper as the needle nears my arm because, in my mind, I see a harpoon about to invade my blubber.
But there are phlebotomists and phlebotomists (and that is a real word). For some, the whaling analogy is not too far from the truth and the pointy penetration will lead to nasty blue bruising. But others have a magical touch - and yesterday's was such a one.
There I was tensing up in my usual fashion. My muscles were tightened, my fists clenched. I was readying myself for theatrics to indicate that the pain was severe and the phlebotomist should stop it at once. I was poised on the cusp of a whimper. I was ready to report her for cruelty.
Then, despite my dread, I heard sounds which were not at all germane to the procedure. They amounted to pack-up sounds; they had a ring of finality about them. All the little vials had been filled up with blood and the phlebotomist was already asking me to press down firmly on the little pad of cotton wool.
Yes, I had already been phlebottomed. And I hadn't felt a thing. I was unharmed.
A completely different procedure addresses the issue of toebesity, which is another word Atkinson could have fun with. I promise you it's a genuine portmanteau word.
Yes, I'm afraid that surgery to fix fat toes is real. Recipients of this procedure apparently feel their toes are too fat to be seen in sandals so they fork out serious money for surgeons to trim them down.
Dropsy would also be suitable for the Atkinson treatment. Even though the name suggests a brother or sister to Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail, it is more serious than fictional bunnies and involves the accumulation of fluid under the skin.
Coxsackie Virus is, lamentably, a real name and it's another that could easily be ridiculed by the Atkinson treatment. It is a virus that lives in the digestive tract and causes blisters on the mouth, tongue and oesophagus. It is definitely not an example of felicitous nomenclature.
So how did it earn such a name? Well, it is named after the small town on the Hudson River in the US where the first cases were found. This, of course, begs the question, how did a town come to be called Coxsackie? One shudders to think.
If all these ailments and procedures appeared on a medical "menu", which would I choose?
Rowan Atkinson: Your choices are Phlebotomy, Toebotomy, Dropsy or Coxsackie Virus (I admit that I made up one of those).
Despite my trepidation, I think I'd still be wise to stick with the phlebotomy.
As long as I'm phlebottomed by the same phlebotomist.
Wyn Drabble is a teacher of English, a writer, musician and public speaker.