Thursday, November 18, 2004
OW!
I donated blood today. First time ever. I was a little anxious. The last time I had a substantial amount of blood removed from my body was when I was 13 for an AIDS test required by our missionary insurance provider. So I'm 13, sitting on the table with the rubbery tube around my arm. I feel a little light-headed but okay. The nurse comes over, gasps, and asks if I'm okay. Well I was until you just freaked out. You're white as a ghost. Oh. Okay. So now what? So she leans the chair back and tells me to breath and that it'll all be over soon. Yay, AIDS free is the life for me!
Flash forward 11 years to Clemson, SC. I go in. Fill out the name thing and start reading over the pamphlet about who can and cannot donate blood. Sex with a man since 1977? Nope, but why 1977? Injected drugs? Nope. Had sex with someone who had injected drugs in the past 12 months? Nope, or Joan's got some splaining to do. Injected bovine insulin? WTF? Ew, hells no. Snorted cocaine in the past 12 months? Um, 12 months, no, but what does that have to do with my blood?
The yes answers were visited outside the country in the past 3 years? Yes, Dominican Republic for 2 weeks Christmas '02. Visited Europe since 1980? Yes, Germany, France, Italy for 2 months. Do I know that I can feel healthy and be positive for AIDS and still have it? Yup.
So I pass and can give blood. I hop up and she asks if I feel okay. Yes, how do you feel? But I am kinda hot, but it's probably the room. She tells me to look away, and I do, but look back in time to see her stick that gigantic needle in my arm. So weird, but cool. I want a tattoo now. Do the fist pumping thing (context you pervs). And am done in about 7 minutes. Nice blood flow. She starts taking tubes out and stuff and then I feel REAL light-headed and woozy. Hey maybe you should lay down. Okay. So after about 10 minutes of drinking a Sprite and lying down I feel a little better and sit up. 5 minutes. Okay I'm ready for my free T-shirt and snacks now. Mmmm, generic fake Hostess products and 8 oz. Cokes. So then I'm sportin' with my orange bandage with pride. And to whomever receives my blood, You're Welcome, and be more careful next time.
Flash forward 11 years to Clemson, SC. I go in. Fill out the name thing and start reading over the pamphlet about who can and cannot donate blood. Sex with a man since 1977? Nope, but why 1977? Injected drugs? Nope. Had sex with someone who had injected drugs in the past 12 months? Nope, or Joan's got some splaining to do. Injected bovine insulin? WTF? Ew, hells no. Snorted cocaine in the past 12 months? Um, 12 months, no, but what does that have to do with my blood?
The yes answers were visited outside the country in the past 3 years? Yes, Dominican Republic for 2 weeks Christmas '02. Visited Europe since 1980? Yes, Germany, France, Italy for 2 months. Do I know that I can feel healthy and be positive for AIDS and still have it? Yup.
So I pass and can give blood. I hop up and she asks if I feel okay. Yes, how do you feel? But I am kinda hot, but it's probably the room. She tells me to look away, and I do, but look back in time to see her stick that gigantic needle in my arm. So weird, but cool. I want a tattoo now. Do the fist pumping thing (context you pervs). And am done in about 7 minutes. Nice blood flow. She starts taking tubes out and stuff and then I feel REAL light-headed and woozy. Hey maybe you should lay down. Okay. So after about 10 minutes of drinking a Sprite and lying down I feel a little better and sit up. 5 minutes. Okay I'm ready for my free T-shirt and snacks now. Mmmm, generic fake Hostess products and 8 oz. Cokes. So then I'm sportin' with my orange bandage with pride. And to whomever receives my blood, You're Welcome, and be more careful next time.
# posted by Seth @ 3:37 PM 
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