Saturday 14 January 2012


I think I already mentioned that I was going to be trying new things this year and having more adventures (and lets be honest, an adventure for me is trying new foods, going to a new restaurant, heck, even signing up to play on a touch football team!).
Anyway, I decided that one of the first new experiences I would try this year would be to donate blood. Now I've tried to do it several times over the years but I've been rejected for one reason or another (not weighing enough, not enough iron), so I was a bit apprehensive when I walked in.  The next hurdle was to get over my needle phobia.  I've had a few bad experiences when I've had blood collected before - think collapsed veins and failed attempts - so I was chuffed when they brought out the little finger prick needle to test for oxygen levels.  I guess anyone can have a finger stick needle though.
Next step was the chair.  I lay there all comfy under the blanket with the little cuff on, squeezing that tube thing with all I had.  "Hmmm" says the nurse, tapping away on my arm.  "Hmmm" says the nurse, trying my other arm.  "You definitely have veins," she says, "that's not the problem.  The problem is that they're not juicy enough for me to get one of these needles into them." I gazed at her pitifully, "Is there no hope, am I a permanent donor dud?" I asked.  Apparently, there was no hope.  She did suggest drinking more before I came in next time, but since I'd already prepped by drinking 2L that morning, she said it was unlikely that anything would change.  Some people are just not cut out to donate blood.  Donor Fail.  It does beg the question though, how they would get blood into me if I ever needed it, given that it was so hard to get it out...

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