Donations

Jennifer and I went to give blood on Saturday. On Monday I drove by Schoharie High School where they were having a blood drive. Though I had the time and the blood, I didn't stop to donate. At the time it was because of cowardice, but now I understand cowardice is the first step of the process I go through while steeling my nerves. By the end of the week I had prepared myself both mentally and emotionally to donate (though I almost lost my will after Jennifer told me the last time she donated they didn't clip her tubes and she squirted blood all over herself, the nurse, and all the other people there). I didn't need to prepare myself physically because I have huge veins already and the nurses never have any problem finding them to stab. 

I lived. The last two times I've donated I've almost passed out. The first time they gave me a band aid for the finger they pricked and sent me on my way. The next time they bleed me a little more. As I was finishing everything started to get really quiet and my vision started to go blurry and grey. I imagine that's what dying feels like. I waved the the nurse over. They strapped me into an orange chair and flipping me upside down so all the blood I had left would pool in my brain. I sat/hung there for a few minutes for my own health and for the amusement of all the other donors.

I mentioned my predilection for passing out to the nurse attending me this last time. She suggested it was because I was filling my bag so quickly. So I guess I'm good at bleeding. If I could pick my talents, "bleeding fast" wouldn't be one of them.