Yesterday I gave blood.
The last time I gave blood I was in high school and it didn't go too well.
An arm spasm caused the needle to jerk in my arm and I said "ow" and the nurse pulled the needle out and threw the half filled bag in the trash.
There is a backstory here. I had been snickering about the nurse's prominent mustache and I think she heard me and took her revenge.
Team no one.
I was a little nervous this time but I was determined to try.
I had tried before whenever the Coast Guard had a blood drive but my iron count was always too low.
The idea of donating blood came from my grandmother. I remember all the certificates my she had from the Red Cross for blood donations and I always admired her for that.
I also have type 0- blood which is the universal donor type and, according to the nurse I spoke with, "in critical shortage at the moment."
The process was okay. The nurse who put in the needle was very nice and the only thing that made me feel mildly queasy was the fact that the tube carrying the blood to the bag was put over my arm and I could feel the heat from my own blood on the outside of my arm. Ew.
Afterwards I had a few cookies and some lemonade and felt pretty darned good about myself.
I met up with Nick for an afternoon snack at the mall.
There was a Russian lady handing out soap samples and when I went to take one, Nick rolled his eyes.
"The mens are like that," the lady said.
I agree with her. The mens are totally like that.
While Nick went to order dumplings I went into the soap store and picked out Freesia and Lavender scented soaps.
When I went to pay I was greeted by a tall, dark haired man who seemed to be from somewhere in the Middle East.
"Why you don't get three? Third one free! C'mon now!" he said.
So I got a third soap and when I returned he said, "I have to say, your skin is beautiful. What do you use?"
The store also sold cosmetics so I thought he might be trying to sneak in a skin cream at that point although, "your skin looks great here put something you don't need on it," isn't the most logical sales method.
Still, I was wary so I took the sarcastic approach.
"It's just old age." I said.
"You use something though?" he asked.
"Um, My own skin oil?" I said.
He looked confused.
"We'll keep on doing it." he said.
And I will.
I will keep on getting up every morning with an oily face and not doing a damned thing about it.
The more I thought about why my skin might look nice the more I began to wonder if losing a pint of blood might not have something to do with it.
Maybe the "pasty and faint" look is about to hit big time.
In that case it should be a win-win for both my skin and the NZ Blood Bank.
Hurrah for us all.
The last time I gave blood I was in high school and it didn't go too well.
An arm spasm caused the needle to jerk in my arm and I said "ow" and the nurse pulled the needle out and threw the half filled bag in the trash.
There is a backstory here. I had been snickering about the nurse's prominent mustache and I think she heard me and took her revenge.
Team no one.
I was a little nervous this time but I was determined to try.
I had tried before whenever the Coast Guard had a blood drive but my iron count was always too low.
The idea of donating blood came from my grandmother. I remember all the certificates my she had from the Red Cross for blood donations and I always admired her for that.
I also have type 0- blood which is the universal donor type and, according to the nurse I spoke with, "in critical shortage at the moment."
The process was okay. The nurse who put in the needle was very nice and the only thing that made me feel mildly queasy was the fact that the tube carrying the blood to the bag was put over my arm and I could feel the heat from my own blood on the outside of my arm. Ew.
Afterwards I had a few cookies and some lemonade and felt pretty darned good about myself.
I met up with Nick for an afternoon snack at the mall.
There was a Russian lady handing out soap samples and when I went to take one, Nick rolled his eyes.
"The mens are like that," the lady said.
I agree with her. The mens are totally like that.
While Nick went to order dumplings I went into the soap store and picked out Freesia and Lavender scented soaps.
When I went to pay I was greeted by a tall, dark haired man who seemed to be from somewhere in the Middle East.
"Why you don't get three? Third one free! C'mon now!" he said.
So I got a third soap and when I returned he said, "I have to say, your skin is beautiful. What do you use?"
The store also sold cosmetics so I thought he might be trying to sneak in a skin cream at that point although, "your skin looks great here put something you don't need on it," isn't the most logical sales method.
Still, I was wary so I took the sarcastic approach.
"It's just old age." I said.
"You use something though?" he asked.
"Um, My own skin oil?" I said.
He looked confused.
"We'll keep on doing it." he said.
And I will.
I will keep on getting up every morning with an oily face and not doing a damned thing about it.
The more I thought about why my skin might look nice the more I began to wonder if losing a pint of blood might not have something to do with it.
Maybe the "pasty and faint" look is about to hit big time.
In that case it should be a win-win for both my skin and the NZ Blood Bank.
Hurrah for us all.
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