growing in the goo

Donating blood is such a bitch. The Red Cross is hounding me on a montly basis, emailing/calling/mailing to try to get me to donate blood. Since it's a renewable resource...I decide, why the hell not? I don't particularly mind needles, and all that stuff about "saving three lives" gets me to the core.

But the whole process is so frustrating. Even though you have an appointment, there's always a ridiculous wait to be seen, no matter if you're donating at a local blood drive or sticking your arms out to check for drug tracks at the Red Cross HQ in D.C.

Usually I go with high hopes, only to have them dashed when they do the preliminary finger prick. The past three (four?) times my iron has been too low, so I slink out of there with my head hidden. People might be wondering...does she have AIDS? Has she had sex with a man who has had sex with a man who lived in Africa? Has she ever injected drugs (NOT prescribed by a doctor) with a needle?

This time I passed the initial blood test with flying colors. I was thrilled. For once, I would be able to donate blood and save THREE lives. My precious Sunday morning will not have been wasted. FINALLY, finally, after an hour of sitting around, it was my time to sit in the reclining chair facing some trash TV. I was dying to change the station to TLC in the hopes that "What Not To Wear" was on, instead of being force-fed some dumb show...let me try to remember what it was called...oh yes. "News To Me." And oh my gosh, I can't believe CNN produces that crap!

So I'm all suited up with my empty blood bag in my hand, waiting to be pricked with the needle. The blood lady finally comes around, and gets to work wiping down my arm with iodine. She tells me to squeeze the mini-football in my hand, and I'm squeezing until it hurts, and apparently my vein is moving around. She finally gets it in, and the blood starts...trickling down the tube. At a glacial pace.

So much so that I was rejected for having blood that "just didn't want to come." And after poking around a bit more, she took the needle out, and said that I could go grab a snack from the "canteen" if I wanted. Which is the ultimate pity prize for us blood rejects...and it's just so embarrassing to be rejected from a place that is notoriously hard up.

Frustrated, I called my mom as I walked away. She told me that it's a sign, that I should just give up donating blood, since I have a 0/5 success rate. But I'm a masochist.

I had two things on my plate for today. Let's hope that the second one goes off without a hitch.