I gave blood on Tuesday.
I give blood EVERY second-Tuesday of the month. It’s one of those “nice things” that I do.
I got THAT from my dad, too!
I arrived on time and was immediately put through the question-answer time that I enjoy so much (sarcasm).
Well, after the question-answer time, I was again asked “left or right” and like usual, answered “left, please”.
I was directed to some nurse’s station and sat and waited for her to push a needle through my arm and take a pint of my blood.
She was proud to exclaim to me that this time would be my one-gallon mark since moving to Warsaw (when I started keeping track of how much blood I donated). I smiled and settled in to my too-short chair waiting for her to stick me with the mile-long needle.
When the needle-stick time comes each month, I like to watch. Weird? Sure, but something about it intrigues me.
I watched, as usual, this time and noticed that she missed. The needle went in, but no blood flowed. I knew we were in for another poke. She moved the needle a bit and found Mr. Vein and blood flowed.
What I’ve come to realize about giving blood is that when they “miss” the first time, I get this really sweet bruise on my arm. I actually look forward to this bruise, because of the leverage it gives me in my various areas of life!
So, for your viewing pleasure – the bruise, 4-days later!