Blood, Tears, and Laughter

The tourniquet pinches tight and I can feel his body fight the uncomfortable feeling even as he sits as still as he can on my lap, couched as we both are in the extra large, padded chair with the wide arms. 

“Can you see a vein?” His voice is tremulous with worry.

There is a tense moment when the needle penetrates skin and he is still like death – we all hold our breath and pray for a straight line – because his poor, damaged veins all too often elude the draw and that way lies madness. I remember a time when he had to be physically restrained to do this kind of a hospital task. Now, while he still hates it and at times will whimper and flinch, he will not move away or fight the tech. And I’m so glad for this small mercy along the way.

The gauge is so small in his arm as the blood finally flows that we three, Chase, the tech, and I, all sit in a frozen sort of silence. I can hear Chase breathing loud and deep. Someone once told him that holding his breath can make the draw harder and so now he practices crazy deep breathing while the tech takes the blood out of his body like a present in bright colored tubes for his doctors.

But then something strikes him sideways and he cackles – actually laughs a little in his weird, quick, infectious way. And the tech and I fight smiles because, after all, who laughs in a blood draw? I can literally hear a child crying across the hall even now. 

And then he looks down at his arm: “When I laugh, does the blood come out faster?” He asks with wonder.

The tech smiles and says she isn’t sure, but perhaps he should try again. 

She barely gets the words out before he giggles again and then looks down curious and bright at the length of tube coming out of his arm.

“Did it help?” He asks her with a smile.

And she smiles back and says it can’t hurt. 

So Chase laughed his way through the rest of the draw. 

And here’s the truth of it, dear ones: even if Chase’s laughter didn’t help his blood, it helped him. He began to relax, to breathe easier, and the time passed much more quickly for him. 

He found joy in the middle of blood and tears.

And in the end, perhaps it helped on a scientific level. Perhaps the blood moved faster with the vibrations of his laughter echoing through his frame. Or maybe it didn’t change the outcome one iota.

But in that moment, I realized that often times, finding the joy is less about the actual circumstances and more about changing us within the circumstances.

Isn’t life wild?

Joy doesn’t always make it better.

Blood and tears are everywhere.

But true joy can always find us…even in the worst of it.

Choosing that joy tonight.

Moment by moment.

“[God,] You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

Psalm 16:11 [ESV]

Chase’s lab numbers were off and so changes will be made and hopefully he will feel better for it soon. There are more scans in just a few weeks and a small surgery question that needs answering in just a few months, but for now, we hold steady and look forward to celebrating the end of his sixth grade school year.